In The Family
by AliasPseudo
Summary: *Complete* It has been seventeen years of peace and progress. The world has moved on, children have been born, friends have grown closer, and grudges have festered unchecked. Mixed pairs, both m/f and m/m. Violence, post EW, OCs.
1. Ch01: Is You Got To Be Free

**In The Family**

Chapter 1

** Is You Got to Be Free**

By APs

Beta read by the awesome gothic-pixel

**A/N (6/2010) - **So, I fixed the formatting that got eaten, since this fic is a beast to read without it, as I understand. Apologies and respect to any that tried. Hopefully, everything should be better now, but if you come across anything major, pleas drop me a line. Thanks!

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A.C. 213

A figure, small and swathed in black, ran silently from a small patch of trees at the edge of the park to the yawning mouth of an alleyway. When it reached the safety of the shadows, it paused to cast violet eyes back over its shoulder. The glow of stage lights had died away hours ago, but the large main tent was still visible in the low glow of the colony night. A small frown bowed its lips as its jaw set and it resolutely turned its back on the quiet scene. However, with one step into the inky shadows, it collided with another body barring the way.

"Gah!" the figure stumbled back a few steps and the person that had blocked it stepped into the light. A man loomed over the figure, cool emerald eyes peering out through his bangs. Trowa waited calmly, but firmly, for the smaller person to recover, arms crossed.

"Dad! Are you /trying/ to scare me to death?" the figure threw the hood of its long coat back to revel a teenaged girl. Her shoulder length brown hair was restrained in a tight French braid that left her round face and large eyes unveiled.

"If it stops you from running away," Trowa raised an eyebrow.

The girl pursed her lips and did a fair job of mimicking his stance, "Doubtful, old man."

Trowa's gaze flattened, "Not even a bag this time?"

"I realized the packing was tipping you and Aunt Cathy off. I have a duffle in a locker at the space port."

"Where this time?"

"Earth."

Trowa sighed as he took his daughter by the arm and started back toward the big top, "You realize most kids run away /to/ the circus?"

Sighing to match, she allowed herself to be steered back the way she'd come, "You realize those kids get way more responsibility than I do, right?"

Trowa stopped, "You have your job, Tristiana."

"I'm in you and Aunt Cathy's act, I help you with the animals, and I help Uncle Ian fix our junkers when they decide to break down."

"That's not enough?"

"C'mon, Dad. All it does is keep me busy. I'm better than half the staff and all I do is assist."

"Hm…" Trowa appraised her small earnest face, a pang of familiarity running through the back of his mind. "Maybe."

Her eyes lit up and a huge, toothy grin plastered itself across her face, "Really? You mean it?"

He nodded and the girl almost squealed. Without warning, she slipped his grip and flung her arms about his neck with a leap. Shocked though he was, he caught her in his reassuringly strong arms as she hung a good foot off the ground. Smiling, he put her back on the solid floor of the colony, but she locked her hands, keeping him at eye level.

"You promise to talk to the manager?"

"After your birthday party." If it was possible, she beamed even more and pecked him on the cheek. She released him and started to run happily back toward home. He watched her go with a small smile playing over his features. Something caught his attention and his gaze shot to the alleyway. A cat slunk from the shadows and he let out the breath he'd been holding. As he started back, he couldn't quite shake the deep feeling of foreboding that had suddenly gripped his heart.

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The boy was staring out the window of the car absently as his mother listened intently to the important person on the other side of her vid-feed and their personal bodyguard typed a report. His large blue eyes were fixed on the sky and the index finger of the hand his head was resting on tapped rhythmically against his lower lip. He was so engrossed that he completely missed the cordial goodbyes his mother had exchanged with whatever official she'd been talking to and the several minutes of silence that followed.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

His head turned and the image of the introspective youth was shattered by his dashingly roguish grin, "You done with your business, Miss Foreign Minister?"

The regal woman gave him a withering, but genuine smile, "Yes, Alex, I'm finished and, as promised, I'm not doing anymore till we get back."

His eyebrow rose, "We'll see."

His mother brushed his black hair from his eyes, "I took two /full/ weeks off for your birthday, just like I promised. I'm sure the ESUN will manage to exist that long without-" The buzz of the car vid-phone pointedly cut through her reassuring speech and as she turned towards it with a small grimace, Alex rolled his eyes skyward.

"A promise is a promise," said a third voice, low and calm, from the seat across from them. Relena stopped, her hand hovering over the pick-up, and blinked up at the man. His laptop was open, but he'd paused, blue eyes on her through unruly bangs. Alex turned at the sound of his voice.

She smiled and nodded, "You're right, Heero. A promise is a promise." She smiled at her son and Alex blinked, then smiled back as the car stopped. "And it looks like we're finally here."

They exited the car onto the tarmac of a private air field, their small, but state of the art shuttle waiting for them patiently. As they made their way to it, the boy fell back a bit to walk beside his uniformed bodyguard.

"Thanks, Heero."

The man glanced down at him, smiling warmly, "It was the only thing you asked for this year."

Alex grinned, making a show of an exaggerated shrug of exasperation, "I would have asked you, too, but I think you may actually be /physically unable/ to not work."

Heero plopped a hand heavily on the boy's head, tussling his short black hair relentlessly, "Absolutely not."

"Are you two ready, or should I start making up excuses?" Relena called from the hatch of the shuttle. An affectionately playful smile had worked its way across her face as she watched them.

Alex ran the rest of the way, "You can't leave me! It's /my/ birthday party!" Heero smiled after him, but the laptop in his hand beeped once, stopping him with a frown. Carefully, he scanned his surroundings and the sky. When nothing happened, he eased the hand that had darted for his sidearm out of his jacket and headed determinedly for the shuttle. Relena's smile faltered when she saw his expression.

She kept her voice quiet, "Heero?"

He closed the hatch and moved to the pilot's seat, hooking his laptop into the shuttle's systems with a familiar grace. He checked a few instruments; made sure everyone was strapped in and took off. When everything stabilized again, Relena primly sat herself in the co-pilot's seat and fixed Heero with a cool, yet determined gaze.

"What is it?"

The man slid the large headphones down around his neck and looked at her. He gauged her for a moment, his eyes tired, "Someone was watching us."

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"I don't /want/ your company, Father!"

That made Quatre stop, mid-breath, and actually look at his oldest son. The boy's generally friendly, open face was screwed into a defiant grimace that was all too familiar. The room smelled of old leather, paper, and ink with the calmingly diffused colony light streaking in through the large windows, much the way it had when he'd fought with his own father. The blonde man covered his silence by smoothing his goatee. "Is that so?"

The boy, catching his father's pause, bulled ahead, "We both know that Tahir, or even Wahid, would be a much better choice. And, of course, there are Quatrine's obvious talents. Any of them would happily be the Winner heir."

"I don't see what that has to do with you skipping your lessons, Deucalion," Quatre's tone was harsh, but his expression had softened considerably.

"I don't wish to go into business, at all." He didn't avert his deep blue eyes, but he did readjust his rich, yet plain shirt, as though it were ill-fitted. Quatre, who was well versed in his son's mannerisms, waited patiently for him to get to the actual point of this latest clash between them. "I want to become a Pilot."

"What?"

"I knew you wouldn't understand."

"I just want to know how much you could have possibly thought this through."

"I want to fly! I don't want to be tethered to one place my entire life!"

"Is that what you think of your family? We're a tether?"

"That's NOT wha—"

"Seems you were right, Quatrine," a booming voice cut across the tumult.

The small blonde girl stared up at the man beside her in the doorway gravely, "I told you. It's like they're possessed, Grandfather." The large man laughed.

"Rashid!" Both father and son said in pleasantly surprised welcome. They, also, both composed themselves as the older man entered the room. He shook Quatre's hand and caught the boy in a hug that made Quatre smile, and his ribs ache, in fond memory.

"Young Master Deucalion! I swear you'll grow into a man yet," Rashid surveyed the boy at arm's length as he laughingly attempted to smooth his appearance back down.

"Please, Grandpa. Father's the only one that calls me Deucalion."

"Only because it's your name," Quatre protested.

Rashid laughed, sitting in one of the large guest chairs in front of Quatre's heavy desk and pulling the girl onto his lap, "Enough you two."

"They don't even take breathes anymore," Quatrine stage whispered into Rashid's ear, absently tugging on his grey beard. Even the two verbal combatants couldn't help, but smile grudgingly.

Once Rashid's laughter had subsided, Quatre spoke up, "To what do we owe the pleasure, my friend? Or are you only here as a peacekeeping force?"

"Though that would be noble cause enough, Quatre, I'm here to give the Young Master his birthday present."

"Oh, you didn't have to," the boy said sternly, but with a weary smile of defeat.

"I couldn't miss your fifteenth birthday, and the others weren't about to let me do it alone, either. Everyone's here, they're waiting in the guest parlor." Rashid locked eyes with Quatre in a way that told him that they had business together and though Deucalion missed it in his excitement, Quatrine gave herself a subtle nod.

With a quick peck on Rashid's cheek, Quatrine foisted herself from his lap and was at her brother's side with a bound, "Come on, Deuce, we mustn't keep guests waiting, or Tahir and Wahid will have charmed all of Abdul's and Auda's beautiful daughters by the time we get there." The tiny girl pulled her brother out the door, not allowing him a word edgewise as the two men laughed.

"Quatrine will make a fine woman. She has Fahima's beauty," Rashid complimented when he had control of himself.

Quatre nodded, "She's my star."

"And Deucalion?"

"Wants to become a pilot," Quatre chuckled. He sat beside his father-in-law in the other guest chair, worry shading his eyes, "But what is it you need to talk about, Rashid?"

The hulking man stared at him gravely, "When I tried to call to inform you we were coming, someone attempted to hijack our signal."

Quatre nodded, his shoulders slumping, "Damn."

"We couldn't trace it, but I'd say you already knew that."

"We've had a number of hacks in the past few months and nothing but frustration as far as stopping it."

"If you'd like, a couple of the Maganac could accompany your family while some of us search your systems."

Quatre smiled, "Thank you, but I think Fahima would kill me. She's refused to budge until this has been taken care of, and she's already angry I've alerted the Preventers. Besides, there's nowhere in the Earth sphere safer than where we're going."

"I warned you about marrying a tiger, Quatre, but seeing them will help. It always does." Rashid's reassuring smile slipped from his face when he saw Quatre slowly shaking his head. "What is it?"

"Something is coming, Rashid, I can feel it. My heart is trying to tell me something." He ran both his hands over his face and through his hair before focusing on his longtime friend again with a strained smile, "I just can't tell if it's good or bad."

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The Preventers were a small organization of handpicked agents and as such news, gossip, and information traveled fast. Only the greenest rookies didn't know about Preventer Zero-Five, also occasionally referred to as Wufei Chang, though only by those that had actually met him. Everything the rookie agent needed to know was on a short list: one, /never/ make jokes about or references to the apparent non-existence of Preventers Zero-One through to Zero-Four; two, do not spar with him unless you like to learn your lessons well and painfully; three, Preventer Water, or Miss Po, and Director Une are the only people he reports to; four, at the same time, every year, he disappears, like clockwork.

The theories that had cropped up to explain this had fantastic range, from visiting the tombs of his family that had been murder during the war to romantic rendezvous with jilted warrior women. As the time grew closer, the stories only grew more vivid and wild. He was professionally personable to those with whom he ended up working closely and had an impeccable work ethic which no one could reproach, plus he'd been there nearly as long as the Director, which was significant to the vast majority of the force. However, the sense of mystery about him was almost palpable at times which fueled the minds of the gaggle of agents.

Sally found it hilarious and theorized that Wufei found it useful, though he might have simply not noticed. It was hard to tell sometimes. Still, she couldn't suppress a smile as she watched her partner finish wrapping the last of the three small, bookish presents on his desk with the care and precision one would usually devote to calligraphy, or wiring a bomb.

"Yes, Po?" He made no other acknowledgement of her presence, which only made her smile deepen.

"Leaving today, then?"

"As usual."

"Be sure you give everyone my best."

Finally, he turned to face her, gazing at her from over his reading glasses, "Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"Please, I don't need you to track down a hacker for me. Besides, Une is expecting you to work security and I'm positive your God-children would never forgive me if you missed one of these parties."

Wufei grunted, "You're probably right."

"I know I am. I'll see to the Winner Corp. computers and swing by if I get the chance."

"Fine, but call me in if things escalate."

Sally laughed, "Please. This is the only vacation you ever take. Nothing in the Earth sphere could make me call you away from it." His eyes hardened again and she sighed, "Fine, /almost/ nothing."

They rode to the space docks together and went their separate ways with wishes for the best. Wufei manually cleared the colony, set his course, and sighed, leaning back in the pilot's chair. One hand removed the bulky headset, while the other released his thin, mid-back length hair from its ponytail. He listened to the soft hum of the engines and the all encompassing silence just beyond it. Breathing deep, he gathered the scents of a maintained, but old shuttle: lubricants, cleaning products, old cushions, and… sweat?

His eyes shot open and in one motion, he'd undone his harness, pulled his gun and twirled in the low gravity to aim at the figure skulking in the hatchway. The figure gave a laugh of surprise and raised its hands. Wufei glared harder, his hand steady as a rock, as his hair came to a rest about his neck softly.

"Halt!" the Preventer yelled with authority and more than a little anger.

The person laughed again, though Wufei would have been tempted to call it something more like a sigh, really, "Anything you say, pal."

"Step into the cockpit, slowly," Wufei barked at the figure.

"What?" The figure shrugged, making sure to keep its hands visible, "Don't tell me you don't recognize me."

If it was possible, Wufei's frown deepened, "I said to step slowly into the cockpit."

The man sighed, taking two deliberate steps forward. He wore khaki cargo pants, sensible, silent shoes, and a black jacket over a white t-shirt. Standing about 5'10", he was unshaved and ill kempt, with short dirty blond hair showing dark roots and sharp blue eyes. Familiar eyes that locked with the Preventer's, "Hello, Wufei."

Wufei lowered his gun, and actually came close to dropping it, looking as though he'd been sucker punched. He blinked to make sure he was seeing straight, "…Duo?"

A grin shot across his face in instant confirmation, but there was no mirth in it. This grin was one word: dangerous. Wufei tightened his grip on the cool metal of his gun.

"You've been missing for fourteen years, Maxwell."

"You didn't really expected me to stay missing, did you."

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_He say "I know you, you know me'_

_One thing I can tell you is you got to be free_

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**A/N** – Reviews of all types are lovely. Also, the chapter titles are from the lyrics at the bottom. The songs are general themes for the chapter and sometimes hold clues to twists if you can figure them out. Until next week!

**Next chapter:** While The Sinners Sin


	2. Ch02: While The Sinners Sin

**In The Family**

Chapter 2

**While The Sinners Sin**

By APs

Beta read by gothic-pixel

**Disclaimer**: Don't own it…

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"Heero kept insisting you'd come back," Wufei finally spoke up from the copilot's seat.

Duo was busy guiding the shuttle around one of the many debris fields that still littered some of the less traveled paths between the LaGrange points, "That so."

Wufei nodded, taking stock of the other man. Duo had developed an air of solidity and economy of motion that his fifteen-year-old self had lacked. His hands had grown large, calloused, and competent. Despite the fact that his shoulders and chest had filled out, he still had the look of slight malnourishment, of hunger, though that may have just been from his choice of baggy clothing and his ghostly pallor. Wufei was slightly annoyed to note that at 5'8", he was now officially the shortest of the ex-pilots, though he was definitely one of the most solid.

Their interaction, though friendly, seemed restricted to routine small talk after Duo had managed to expertly dodge questions for an hour, which seemed about right. Wufei was fine with the other keeping his secrets for the moment; they would be dealt with soon enough. The only things that jumped out at Wufei were the other's oppressive calm and eyes. Duo had always been perceptive, but never piercing, not like this.

"I know what you're doing," Duo's smile warmed his eyes a bit, but ultimately only succeeded in making them sharper.

"And?" Wufei's steady gaze didn't falter and Duo just sighed. Looking back out at space where the moon was looming larger every passing minute, he leaned back in the pilot's chair, arms behind his head. Sober. That was the word for it, Wufei decided. Duo was deliberate, determined, and sober.

"You don't have to, you know. It's just me."

"Hm." Wufei's thoughts were not so concise. No, it wasn't just Duo. It was the incident plus fourteen solitary years of bitter experience. Wufei finally realized he had no idea if he could take him, if it came to it, and found himself hoping it never did.

"Still looks like a graveyard," Duo suddenly smirked without turning.

"What?"

"The moon," Duo pointed with his chin. He grinned at Wufei again and the Chinese man found himself thinking twice as he stared down Shinigami in sharp blue eyes. "Hope our luck with this rock has improved."

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They'd decided on the moon last year at Christmas, together. When the kids had been younger, the site for the combined party had simply rotated between the three families. A circus, a colonial mansion, and an estate on Earth had been more than enough for a long time, but last year the parents had been convinced that they'd finally outgrown, or worn out, the venues. The moon was gaining popularity as a vacation spot, the one sixth Earth gravity being hailed as rejuvenating. However, the industry was still small and Quatre had had no problems engaging the entire resort for the two weeks.

There were still a few scattered factories elsewhere, but they were far enough to give the resort the measure of seclusion and security the parents required. It was also lavish, chic, and new enough to satisfy the guests of honor. The place was the size of a large mansion, sprawling from the hub holding the lobby, ballroom, banquet hall, and conference rooms. One arm went to a spa, gym, and pool while another had an upscale restaurant/bar and theatre and from the last one cascaded the rooms.

"This place is…" Deuce trailed off, inspecting the exotic fountain in the middle of the entrance lobby, making use of the strange gravity in some odd ways.

"Striking," Quatre supplied evenly.

Deuce frowned, but nodded in agreement. Tahir and Wahid were busy running around and doing back flips, but Quatrine smiled up at her big brother.

"Hey, stranger!" a voice called from atop the sweeping staircase on the opposite side of the room. Tristiana gave a wave from beside a smiling redhead.

"Tris! Marie! You look well!" Deuce shouted, waving back.

"Hang on!" Tristiana called, taking a running start and vaulting over the top railing. She spun in midair with tight precision for heartbeats too long, alighting with seemingly no effort at all mere feet from the father, son, and daughter. She ran the few remaining steps and almost tackled Deuce with a hug. "I missed you!"

Deuce smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, "Missed you, too, Tris."

She released him and beamed at Quatre, "Hello Uncle Quatre."

"It's good to see you, Tristiana," the blonde man smiled fondly. "Is everyone here?"

"Everyone, but Uncle Wufei. We'll go tell them you're here. We need to grab Alex for some exploring anyway," she grabbed Deuce and started for the stairs even as she was speaking, passing the tall redheaded woman who'd just made it to the ground floor.

"Hello, Mariemaia," Qautre greeted her.

"It's been too long, Quatre," she smiled the same quiet smile she always did. "Lady Une sends her regrets and best wishes."

The blonde nodded, "She's a busy woman, but we're glad you made it."

A slight gleam entered her cornflower eyes, "I'm twenty-four and, thanks to you, more than able to get myself from place to place. If I waited for Une, I'd never go anywhere."

Quatre laughed, shaking his head before catching the look on his daughter's face. With a small cough, he said loud enough for all three of his children to hear, "I'm sure Catherine's boys are somewhere around. Perhaps you should go find them."

The redhead seemed slightly confused, but softened when she realized what the business man was trying to do, "Hm, yes. Her husband couldn't get away from managing the circus, but I'm fairly certain I know right where the little rascals are."

Quatrine raised an eyebrow at the two adults, but then smiled and allowed herself to be corralled alongside her brothers after the two teens to have happy reunions with friends long distant.

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"The kids are getting big," Trowa said by way of greeting. Heero was beside him, which was usually the case at these gatherings.

Quatre laughed, "You're one to talk. Tristiana's becoming quite the young lady."

The small smile of pride was unmistakable, even as he shook his head and sighed.

"She's blackmailed him into having her own act," Heero said mildly, though there was a hint of a smile. Trowa laughed.

"Isn't she a little young?"

"She's fifteen," Trowa reminded and they all took that in for a minute.

"Yes, you're all old men, who only talk about their children. Who would have guessed," someone jeered softly from the staircase. The Foreign Minister paced toward them, face serene and jacket of her damask skirt suit dangling over her shoulder.

"Relena," Quatre smiled, "it's nice to see you without a negotiation table between us. How long can we expect you for?"

She laughed, "Didn't Heero tell you? I've been officially banned from work via birthday decree."

Quatre glanced at Heero, who put up a hand in defense, "Only thing Alex asked for this year."

Quatre blinked, "Can you do that?"

"You got Deuce the moon," Trowa pointed out evenly.

"It was my turn to host," the blonde shrugged with a polite smile, "but there are miracles and then there are /miracles/."

Heero grunted, "Your wife isn't with you?"

Quatre sighed, "She promised to come as soon as the computers were seen to."

"Perhaps Deuce should take a cue from Alex. Shouldn't Wufei be here by now?" a faint smile played across Relena's lips.

Quatre frowned slightly, "Yes, actually, he was supposed to arrive first so he could double check security."

Heero glared at the blond, who smiled diplomatically, "Preventers protocol. You know how Une worries."

"You and Relena are considerably high profile, Quatre," Trowa crossed his arms, frowning slightly.

Heero shook his head, "It's for the kids, Trowa."

"They deserve to be safe," Quatre was looking at the floor and absently kneading his right upper arm. It was a rare thing to see these days.

Relena smiled gently, "They're with friends and family. There's no where safer."

Quatre returned her smile, "Of course. Speaking of which, would you drop in on Cathy? Quatrine and the boys should be there and I'm sure she and Marie must be going out of their minds by now."

Relena paled, already heading for the stairs, "You left them alone with four boys?"

"They're fine," Trowa assured Quatre, who'd started to frown again.

"That's questionable," a terse grunt contested from the door.

"How's that, Wufei, now that you've decided to stop lurking in the entrance?" Heero's voice held a cool note of playful rebuke.

"We have an issue that doesn't concern Relena," he grated with a small nod of thanks to Quatre.

"An issue?" Quatre had never known Wufei to use euphemisms and something was tugging at his heart, dropping the bottom from his stomach.

Wufei sighed, "I had a stowaway."

"What?"

Heero glared while Trowa raised an eyebrow, his gaze going cold. Wufei growled out another sigh, but just gestured over his shoulder with a flick of the wrist. Duo stepped out of the shadows, a sheepish smile weakly forcing its way onto his face as he scratched his head.

"Hey, guys."

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"This place is amazing! Your dad's really outdone himself." Tristiana was standing on her head again.

Deucalion scowled, "The Winner name opens all sorts of doors."

"I take it you and Uncle Quatre are fighting again," Tris rolled her eyes. The boy didn't answer.

"That's a yes," Alex interjected without turning. He was leaning against the railing of the observation dome balcony, silhouetted against the purple black, eyes fixed on the rising blue, green, and white orb.

Tris sighed, "Really, Deuce, I don't know what's wrong with you."

"I suppose you've stopped trying to run away, then," Deucalion glared at the girl, who glared back.

"And that's a no," Alex interjected, again.

"You should know better than that, Tris," Deucalion scolded her.

She huffed, giving an awkward shrug, "It's not like Dad ever lets me get anywhere."

"Which just proves how much he and Aunt Cathy care about you. Must be nice. Everyone knows I was just a publicity stunt adoption," Alexander said in the same calmly disinterested manner, back firmly to them.

Springing into the air, spinning, and allowing herself to drift slowly to the floor with crossed legs, Tristiana frowned, "That's not true, Alex."

"Huh?" He turned as though he'd been woken from a dream, then smiled roguishly at them, "Sorry, that was suppose to be a joke."

"Well, it wasn't funny, either," Deuce scowled at the other boy. "Aunt Relena and Heero would be very hurt if they heard you say that."

"Alright, geez, I said it was a joke," Alex's hands were up, though he was laughing awkwardly. "You're fifteen, Deuce, act like it once in a while."

"Our parents were fifteen during the Eve War," Deuce leveled his gaze on Alex, whose smile only seemed to grow proportionately to Deuce's grimness.

"Speaking of which," Tristiana finally spoke up from the floor, "Any luck with that… stuff?"

Alex wilted slightly under the expectant eyes of his friends, though he managed to keep the smile, "I did some research, but… Look, it's really not important."

"You didn't find anything?" Tris rested her head in her hands.

Alex bounced between Tristiana's patient stare and Deucalion's scrutiny, "Well, not exactly."

"So, you found /something/." Deucalion knew his best friend too well to let something that obvious drop, even if Alexander did end up mentally cursing him.

"Maybe," he said, slightly put out. He finally decided to face Tris, "Couldn't you get anything out of your Dad?"

"You know we don't talk about Mom," Tristiana's expression hardened, leaving Alex with the suspicion that he may have chosen the wrong friend.

He blinked and opened his mouth, but snapped it shut again and nodded instead. Deucalion sighed, "And before you ask, no, Father and I haven't exactly been on sensitive discussion terms lately."

"Alright, fine." Alex closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts, taking a deep breath. When his eyes opened, he looked at Tris, "I didn't find anything on your mom, Tris. Nothing."

The girl stood, stretching to avoid the other's eyes, "Right."

Alex shook his head, "No, you don't get it. There're absolutely /no records/ for any non-local woman giving birth to a girl in the area your circus would have been in at the time you were born. There isn't even a birth certificate for you."

She stopped mid-turn, "That doesn't make any sense."

"I know," he confessed with a shrug. Then he turned to the other boy, "It's kinda more of the same for you, too, Deuce."

"How so?"

"Uh, well, I couldn't find any medical records for your Dad during the war, which I guess makes sense for such a powerful family, but…" he ruffled his thick, black hair, hunting for the words.

"But?" Deuce pushed softly as Tristiana's eyes bore into him.

He sighed with another weak smile, "I kinda piggybacked a backdoor program on one of our calls."

Deucalion's jaw dropped, "/You/ hacked the Winner computer system?"

"How?" was all Tris could manage.

Alex shrugged, "Heero helped me build my computer last summer and I've been watching him program for years. You know how I pick things up."

"Holy shit, Alex! I should go tell Father this instant. Mother's been going insane over this."

"Don't you dare rat me out, Deuce. I only did it once and that was because you asked me to." Alex moved to grab Deuce, whose face was a dare of violence.

"What did you find?" Both boys turned to Tristiana who was standing there, a silent promise of a quick resolution to anything they might decide to start.

They took a step away from each other and composed themselves before Alex continued, "There wasn't anything on the private accounts, either."

"That's not right," Deuce growled, "Grandfather kept impeccable records, especially concerning his children."

"Yeah, I figured that out," Alex laughed.

"What about you?" Deuce asked, suddenly turning on Alex, "What about your parents?"

Alex shrugged after a moment of surprise, "Just the usual story. I was abandoned in the confusion after the War Memorial bombing. Relena adopted me. Other than that one picture of her running from the disaster with me in her arms, there's no reason to believe she knew anything about me before she took official charge of me at the hospital. So, there you have it."

"A lot of dead ends," Deuce almost whispered. Alex nodded, but Tristiana vaulted onto the railing.

"It proves one thing," she said calmly, landing on her hands.

"Huh?"

"What's that?"

She bent over backwards until her feet touched and she stood with perfect balance, then she looked at the boys with cool violet eyes, "Our parents have been lying. Innocent people don't hide."

They let that waft through the air for a long while, as though it was easier to study the idea if it was unbroken in the air about them. It was a laugh from Alex that broke the silence, drawing the other's attention. When he noticed them, he smiled.

"You'd think we'd stumbled on something huge. I mean, honestly guys, parents keeping secrets from their kids? You might as well say water's wet, or Wufei has a dry sense of humor." Alex and Tris laughed, while Deucalion blushed with a sheepish smile.

"You're right, it's ridiculous," Tris managed an impressive triple flip.

"Would you stop that?" Alex grumbled, "My stomach's still out of whack and you're not helping."

"It's not our fault the gravity doesn't agree with you," Deuce pointed out.

Alex let his slick grin come back, "Unlike you two space brats, I happen to come from a place with an actual, stable environment."

The girl let herself slip to sit on the railing next to the black haired boy with a mischievous smile all her own, "Yeah, well, we're about as far away from the world as you can get, now." They turned to look at the Earth hanging in the endless night, then she giggled and started toward the door, "Except for maybe Mars."

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_Seagulls sing your hearts away,_

_Cause while the sinners sin, the children play._

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**A/N** – I'm too impatient to make people wait a week, so I'm upping my update schedule to twice a week, Monday and Friday.

**Next Chapter** – Pocketful Of Mumbles


	3. Ch03: Pocketful of Mumbles

**In The Family**

Chapter 3

**Pocketful of Mumbles**

By APs

Beta read by gothic-pixel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it…

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"Mars?" Quatre was echoing him again.

Duo sighed, "You realize if you repeat everything I say, this is going to take twice as long and it's already a long story, trust me."

He'd expected to have to apologize as soon as he said it, but Quatre looked far less hurt than determined. Quatre had sprouted into an elegant figure, once he'd lost his baby fat, six feet even, long and slender. The guy was all warm, knowing smiles and smooth, confident motion. Duo absently found himself wondering exactly when the blond had grown into such a negotiator, though he suspected fatherhood and politics had something to do with it.

It hadn't taken much to talk the others into retiring to the bar area before getting down to the meat of the interrogation. They hadn't requested any bar staff to stay on for the two weeks and it was out of the way. He'd slipped into one of the corner booths with his back against the wall, smiling carefully when Wufei and Heero had flanked him on either side. Some things would never change.

"You went to Mars?" Quatre pushed calmly from across the table.

Duo rolled his eyes, "Yes and no. I piloted supply shuttles back and forth. Freelance stuff."

"We never heard anything about you from Wind," Wufei's eyes were mild, but his back was straight as a ramrod. He had apparently retained the stick up his ass, at least around the others.

"That would be because I was avoiding contact with /anyone/ that might have recognized me. I assume you went to Howard first when I-"

"Ran away," Heero cut across him impassively. The others all stared at him, but he was busy studying the prodigal's reaction. Duo studied him right back. Of all of them, Heero had changed the least, physically. He was maybe an inch taller than Duo, athletic with some weight behind it. Yet, something, maybe his voice or his posture or his eyes, whispered vaguely that this Heero was not the 'Perfect Soldier' of the war.

"We checked regularly with all your known contacts," Trowa supplied. Duo shifted his gaze. Trowa had become an impressive guy, all long limbed, broad shouldered, and wiry. He still radiated that dangerous calm, but he was practically sitting on top of Heero and neither of them seemed to notice.

"Of course you did," Duo managed a small smile. "How are they all doing?"

"Well enough. So, you were working as a freelance shuttle pilot for fourteen years?" Quatre had definitely become a force to be reckoned with, Duo decided as he let the smile drop.

He nodded, "Yeah, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Jesus Christ, Quatre! Yes, /mostly/." He found himself leaning back into the booth cushions under the inspection of the others. "Ask a real god damn question if you want a real god damn answer."

"What happened to your hair?" It was Heero and after the initial shock all Duo could do was laugh.

"You like it? Always heard blonds had more fun," he scratched the back of his head, avoiding their eyes. They'd tried concern and shock, so next would be strong arm.

Cue Wufei, "What the Hell have you really been up to, Maxwell?"

It never ceased to amaze him how Wufei could make his second name sound like 'idiot'. The smile that spread across his face was so sharp it could have cut glass, "Your job, since you apparently can't handle it."

The answering punch was harder than he'd expected, knocking the room for a loop before he even felt it. When he looked over, Wufei was jerking his arm out of Quatre's grasp, a short Chinese rock of smoldering fury that couldn't even look at him. Check.

As Duo wiped his lower lip, the blond sighed, "We all know it wasn't the Preventers' fault."

"Right, because 'the actions of individuals are almost impossible to predict.'" Duo quoted sourly. He heard a soft pop and looked up to see the shattered glass in Quatre's right hand. The hurt had won out in his aquamarine eyes, but the anger that was mixed in there was not lacking in power either. Quatre broke eye contact without a word to watch the glass shards drop from his unharmed hand to the tabletop.

"It was a tragedy and you weren't the only one that was hurt," Trowa reminded him.

"No," he agreed after a long pause, his tone making even Wufei glance at him. He was weary, of the world and of this game. "No. I wasn't the only one that got hurt, but I was the only one whose face was plastered on the protest posters. You want to know what I was doing. Fine. I was hiding the connections of the /only/ Gundam pilot to have a publicly released photo to anyone I gave two shits about." Silence. There was nothing to say.

Quatre finally rallied enough to attempt to intervene, "Duo, the Preventers-"

"Yeah, the Preventers," Duo laughed. He held up a hand before Wufei could protest, "We all know Director Une is doing everything she can, but the Preventers are still a /covert/ organization. They can suppress a picture and hide certain OZ reports, but they /can't/ change the past. Une's already under fire for championing Mariemaia. Even Mars is too iffy, being a magnet for soldiers that couldn't adjust. Probably half that rock has a grudge against one or more of us. Zechs and Lu have it hard enough and if it went public that Une was harboring Gundam pilots, Preventers would be torn apart.

"And before you start, Q, you couldn't afford to help me any more than Une. If people put two and two together, which someone would, you could be tried for war crimes. That alone could plunge the Earth Sphere back into another pointless freaking war considering how many treaties you've helped negotiate. Trowa was lucky that he only had to change his last name. Relena's fighting for us tooth and nail, but we've all been squeaking by in the grey areas left by the war," he locked eyes with Heero to let him know he was no exception. The other man nodded, almost imperceptibly. They had an understanding which apparently still held true. "Point is we've done what we've had to do. Whether that was shuffling some papers, changing a name, or…"

"Or dropping off the grid to wage a private war and completely changing your appearance." Heero finished for him. Duo cursed their familiarity, running a self conscious hand through his sheered and chemical burned hair.

His smile made its return behind a shrug, "Hey, all they've got is a picture. Besides, I wear it well."

"You could have done that /with/ our help," Wufei finally deigned to reenter the conversation, though he kept up his rock impression fairly convincingly, eyes forward.

"Change my hair?"

Wounded obsidian eyes cut deep into him, "Confront /our/ enemies."

Suddenly, something clicked in Duo's head and he turned to each of the others, confirming it. Finally, scratching his scruffy cheek absently, he spoke, "Look, I never thought you couldn't protect yourselves."

Wufei's gaze didn't seem convinced, his stiff formality at odds with his eyes. Duo wished he'd just deck him again.

"I just figured you had a better shot at normal without the God of Death hanging over your heads," Duo laughed.

The others apparently found it less funny, especially Heero, "Hurt one, hurt all."

"That's it. We're done. I can't do this." Duo turned from Wufei and Quatre to Heero and Trowa expecting one of the pairs to get the hint and move.

"Duo, you know we can help," Quatre started diplomatically, despite the fact that no one had budged. The blonde was apparently still the strategist of the group.

He shot out of his seat and leaned over the table to come nose to nose with his Arabian friend before any of them could react. When he spoke, his voice was a soft growl, "They needed a scapegoat. You can't /help/ with that, Quatre Raberba Winner. And I refuse to see anyone else die for standing next to me, so /move/."

Quatre's eyes finally flashed that wounded looked Duo had seen so often during the war, but it was Trowa who spoke, "Your hand."

He looked to Trowa in confusion, then down at his hand. He had planted it directly on the remains of Quatre's poor glass and it was slowly starting to turn the tablecloth a deep red. He let his head droop, "Shit."

"Trowa, why don't we find a first aid kit?" Quatre stood without even a glance at Duo. Trowa nodded, patting Heero's arm as he got up without looking.

They were about to leave the room without another word when Heero's voice stopped them, "If you didn't come back for help, why return at all?"

Duo glanced at the seated man, but his face was unreadable, "I figured it was about time to give everyone the option of knowing the truth."

"Everyone?" Quatre echoed and Duo wondered if it was involuntary.

"/Everyone./" His smile broke across his features once more, "I'm sure we all remember what it was like to be fifteen, after all."

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Sally stretched and started on her eighth cup of coffee. Quatre had nearly demanded that the Preventer assigned to review his systems stay on site, which was only cleared with Director Une because the only Preventers she would assign to a case involving one of the ex-pilots so closely would be Sally or Wufei. Therefore, the room was much nicer than she'd become accustomed to, not to mention the coffee. Of course, she'd gotten much more use out of the coffee than the room, considering it was pushing four in the morning and she was still in the server room.

The colonial Winner household was surprisingly busy even when Quatre, and his children, were on vacation. In a day, the Preventer had met more Winner sisters than she had considered physically possible. She'd been surprised to find out just how many of them worked in the company and floored that they were all happy to not have Quatre's job. He'd been groomed to be the public face just as they'd been trained in certain fields and those that had decided to leave mostly preferred private lives. The Winner Corporation was, in fact, a nearly perfect 'family business'.

Anyway, Fahima Namir Winner, lady of the household and head of technological security, had met with her upon arrival. She was a small, curvy woman with a sharp tongue and clever fingers whom Sally had instantly found herself liking years before, despite the abrasive quality of her personality. Honestly, she reminded her of Wufei, plus sarcasm, though she suspected Quatre got to see a different side of her than anyone else. Now, as she headed back to the cool glow of her laptop and cradled the warm cup, Sally was surprised to find the woman already there.

"Good morning," the Preventer nodded over her coffee.

Fahima glared, "I haven't slept either, Sally, and I fail to see the 'good' in it."

The Preventer's brow knit, "What's wrong?"

"We found the backdoor our hackers have been using," she huffed as she typed.

Moving to watch over her shoulder, Sally jumped a little, "That can't be right."

Fahima turned and eyed her, "That code is not only obscure, but practically untraceable. It uses legitimate subroutines to grant universal access. Recognize it?"

"I think I might." Sally couldn't say that it smacked of Heero Yuy, chief of security for Foreign Minister Darlian, though she suspected her friend knew, anyway.

Fahima arched an eyebrow, "That's what I figured. We caught it when they made another attempt about fifteen minutes ago."

"Oh?"

"Yes. We also managed to retrieve a good deal of data before they realized what was happening and pulled the plug," the other woman had turned back to the computer, but Sally knew a smile had undoubtedly alighted on her lips.

"Is that what you're uploading?"

"Of course. Sally, we knew the first breach was from the Earth, but the subsequent attacks have apparently been routed through several colony only relays using two different encryption codes."

She sipped her coffee, "Which would suggest the mere utilization of a weakness left by an initial party."

"Exactly. I was hoping you could help save us some time and identify the encryption codes," she finished her typing and waved at the screen. Sally choked on her coffee and all she could do for several minutes was cough. Fahima waited.

Sally grabbed the small computer, "No, none of this can be right."

"Sally," Fahima tested after a few long minutes of the Preventer typing in furious silence. When her friend didn't answer, she tried again, but received the same response. Finally, she pushed the screen of the laptop down on Sally's hands.

"Ow! What are you doing?"

Fahima stared at her calmly, maintaining pressure on the computer, "Forgive my forwardness, but I took your reaction to mean you knew something."

The Preventer sighed, "I need to contact Director Une."

"Oh, no, Sally. You need to tell me who's been flouting my security for the past several months." They locked gazes.

"It's classified."

"It's my /family/."

"Alright," Sally sighed, she'd almost forgotten how protective the mother could get. Fahima took her hand from the computer and waited.

Sally unfolded the screen again, rereading it, "I haven't seen either of these since the Eve War."

Her friend crossed her arms, unsatisfied.

"One is a military encryption," Sally continued. "It was mostly used by the Alliance units that continued to fight after the Oz coup."

"You were in one of those, weren't you?"

Sally frowned, "Yes, but I was sure all of those units were terrestrial and disbanded a long time ago."

"Apparently some of their tricks have outlived them." Sally nodded, but Fahima cleared her throat, "And the other one?"

"It's a personal encryption."

"It's a Gundam encryption."

Sally's gaze shot from the screen to Quatre's wife, who smiled. It was rare, but sometimes she also forgot how astute the other woman could be.

"I thought so."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm not a fool, Miss Po," Fahima reminded her with a smile that was too predatory to be considered gentle. "My father and my husband may not speak openly about certain things, but that does not mean I'm ignorant. Now, was it Heero?"

Sally blinked in shock, "What? No!"

The small woman frowned, "But the coding was-"

"Yes, it was, or at least looked a great deal like it," Sally cut across her curtly.

"You don't think it was him?"

Sally actually chuckled, typing again, "I doubt that guy could get caught if he wanted to, let alone leave such a mess. This was too clumsy and haphazard."

The married woman watched her friend work. She sighed, her shoulders and eyelids slumping as her lack of sleep weighed heavily upon her. At that moment, there was nothing she wanted more than her husband's arms about her in bed. Her thoughts were drifting toward the moon when Sally let out a small victorious sound.

"What is it?"

Sally had gone from happy to bemused in seconds flat, "I cracked the personal encryption."

"And?"

"And nobody's heard from him in fourteen years."

Fahima fumed at her friend's continued dodging, "What does that mean?"

Sally looked up at her, turning the screen, "I honestly don't know. Can you tell me what these are?"

Displayed was a list of file names and data transfers. Fahima leaned closer to read, squinting at first, then her eyes flew open and she grabbed the computer. She started scrolling through the lists frantically, "No, no, no…"

"Fahima?" Sally leveled a flat glare at the other woman, who composed herself.

"It's the personal Winner archives, focusing on the war."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"Meaning they have a complete log of every transaction and correspondence any member of the Winner family made during the war." Fahima swore and spun the computer back to her friend, "Including incontrovertible evidence of Winner funding behind at least two Gundams."

Sally let loose a streak that made the other woman's simple explicative pale in comparison. She had a secure, private line open in a heartbeat and a tired Une appeared on screen in another.

"Water," she greeted Sally in careful neutrality.

Sally nodded, "Director. Suspect has become multiple, an initial perpetrator with knowledge of zero-one's coding, a possible Alliance splinter group and zero-two implied."

"Zero-two?" Fahima echoed in shock. Une looked surprised, but then fixed Sally with her best 'we'll talk later' glare.

"She knows," Sally waved the entire thing aside as unimportant. "Zero-four may be compromised."

Une frowned, rubbing her temples with a long slender hand.

"Director?"

Finally, she looked up again, "Be advised, we have reason to believe White Queen and zero-five may also be compromised. Her offices were raided and /our/ organization has been infiltrated."

Sally's mouth fell open. So that was why Une had picked up so quickly.

It was Fahima that took up the conversation, "Anyone claiming responsibility?"

Une smirked, which sent a chill up Sally's spine, "Our mole has been rather forthcoming of late, but it doesn't appear to be anyone we know, at least not intimately. They call themselves the Orphanhood."

"That sounds familiar," Sally frowned.

"It should. They galvanized in the aftermath of the Memorial Bombing."

Sally sat for a long time, "Have they been notified?"

Une shook her head, "We're in lockdown and no transmissions have gotten through."

"Understood. Water, underway," Sally cut the feed and the computer went dark.

"So?" Fahima's voice came soft and distant.

"Relena, Quatre, and Wufei may be in danger from a group of individuals that are brought together solely by their anger toward the Gundam pilots."

A small click came clearly through the darkness, "This is Fahima to shuttle bay eight. Would you kindly ready the shuttle for departure?"

"Yes, ma'am," came the response.

"Fahima? What are you doing?" Sally finally asked as the door was opened, letting in the soft hallway light and silhouetting the small Arabian woman.

"I figured we were heading to the Moon."

Sally stowed her laptop and shouldered her pack in one motion, "No, Fahima. /I'm/ going to the Moon."

Her friend blatantly laughed at her, "Nothing in Heaven or Hell could keep me from my family, Sally, so what exactly do you think your chances are?"

"Quatre would kill me if anything happened to you," Sally returned fire, but the shorter woman was unfazed.

A single thick eyebrow arched as that voracious smile returned to her ample lips, "Quatre's the least of your worries if anything should happen to /my/ children."

That chill went shooting up Sally's spine again, "This isn't a game, Fahima."

"Do I look like I'm playing?"

Sally gauged her friend carefully, then sighed, "/Only/ if you follow my orders."

"Of course. You're the boss," she laughed as she turned down the hall.

"Where are you going?"

She spun on her heel without stopping, "I'll meet you at the shuttle. I have to grab some stuff and make a phone call. Oh, and don't worry, they won't let you leave without me."

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_I've squandered my resistance_

_For a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises_

_All lies and jests, still a man hears what he wants to hear_

_And disregards the rest_

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**A/N** – Thank you to my reviewers! I hope you're still enjoying the story. All reviews are still greatly appreciated! I want to know what you think.

**Next Chapter** – Something To Say No To


	4. Ch04: Something To Say No To

**In The Family**

Chapter 4

**Something To Say No To**

By APs

Beta read by gothic-pixel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it…

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"Damn!" Sally smashed her fist into the communications console of the shuttle in bitter resignation.

"Still can't get through?" Fahima asked without looking up from the laptop.

"…No," Sally conceded a bit harshly. She sighed, "It looks like all signals are being jammed."

The smaller woman looked up, "That would mean someone on the _inside_ would have to be doing the jamming."

Sally nodded grimly, still staring at the signal readings on the Moon.

"Are you sure you trust Heero?"

"With my life," her brow furrowed.

Fahima raised an eyebrow, "What about Miss Mariemara?"

Sally turned to her friend in shock, "Fahima!"

The Arabian woman shrugged, "If we've been betrayed, I'm not going to give anyone a free pass."

Sally regarded her friend coolly, "Then I suppose you're willing to admit Quatre carries a frequency jammer?"

Fahima laughed, "Don't be silly. That code I gave you an hour ago would have gotten around it."

"Trowa always had quite a knack for espionage," Sally pondered, knowing full well how close Fahima was to the Blooms.

She glared at the Chinese woman, "Of course, then we can't leave out Wufei's penchant for switching sides."

Sally actually growled, "How dare you. He was confused and-"

"Yes, yes," Fahima waved it away with a look of apology. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. It's just… I'm worried."

Sally put her palm to her temple, trying to calm down, "I know, Fahima. At least we can say that we're fairly sure it's not one of them. That leaves the skeleton staff, though Heero did thorough background checks on everyone. I suppose Zero-two is still a possibility. Jammers and stealth were his specialty."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Oh?"

She nodded, making her messy, dark hair flutter, "It looks like the Gundam encryption was riding the Alliance hack."

"Wait, you mean that Zero-Two never hacked your computers on its own?"

Fahima looked down at the screen again, "No, it was ghosting. Probably a bot, or possibly a hardware tap, we got lucky and grabbed it with the parent signal. If they're using old equipment as well as old codes, the Gundam encryption could just be coincidental. A left over."

A dark cloud passed over Sally's face, "I'm not sure I believe in coincidence."

A chill ran up Fahima's spine, making her shudder, but she looked up with a reassuring smile, "We'll be there soon, Sally. Then we'll get to the bottom of this."

Sally sighed, "It's just not like them to miss something like this. I wonder what could possibly have distracted them this much."

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The adults were gathered in the theater. Under the pretext of setting up the traditional performance by Catherine and Trowa, they'd left the smaller children under the attentions of Mariemaia. The three older kids were still off somewhere and weren't due to check in until dinner that night. Silence settled as Duo, at the center of attention, let the last of the explanations and proposals work their way into his audience's thoughts.

"No," Heero finally declared.

"Heero," Relena started diplomatically only to be cut off by a motion telling her he hadn't finished.

Heero was glaring at his habitually unfazed friend, "He has no right to make this decision for us."

"He's presenting an option, not making any decisions, Heero," Quatre observed, smoothing his goatee.

"With a time limit," Trowa added passively from the stage.

"Right," Heero nodded, "His presence is forcing us to decide this right now as a group, instead of handling this individually." Duo sat quietly listening under Heero's sustained glare, a small grin tugging at his lips.

"I think we're missing the point here, gentlemen," Relena cut in, "Don't you all think the children have a right to know?"

It was Catherine who answered, "What good would knowing do, other than to put them in danger?"

"Ignorance is not the best defense," Wufei spoke up from where he was leaning against the door.

"But telling them about the war?" A dark cloud passed over Quatre's face.

"Knowledge is the best weapon against mindless violence. Keeping the truth about the Gundams from them could do far more harm than good," Relena had that look about her that told everyone this could quickly turn into a speech.

"Why can't we just let them be children?" Catherine towered over them from the stage.

Trowa put a hand on his sister's shoulder, "They won't be for much longer, even in peacetime, Cathy."

Quatre sighed, "And we would only be offering. The choice would ultimately be up to them."

Heero shook his head, "Tell one and they'll all know. I refuse to be forced into this." The silence that followed was tense. It was Duo who finally moved. With a grin, he stood and stretched, then started for the door. Heero was still glaring at him, "Where are you going?"

Duo paused, looking back coolly over his shoulder, "To take a nap while you guys talk this over."

"What about your say?" Quatre was genuinely taken aback.

Duo shrugged, "You've heard it. Besides, Heero was right, I've got no right to make any part of this decision."

He started toward the door again, but Heero shot out of his seat to bar the way, "What about your wife?"

Duo looked as though he'd been slapped before a disgusted snarl curled his lips, "Hilde's dead."

Duo attempted to shoulder past him, but Heero grabbed his arm and forced the man to look him in the eye, "She deserves a say."

"Well, she ain't talking," he spat coldly.

"Heero?" Quatre tried to placate and Trowa took a meaningful step toward the edge of the stage, but neither of the men were about to acknowledge the rest of the room.

"What happened at the Memorial was because we weren't careful about our information. It won't happen again." There was a promise in there, somewhere beneath the apology and menace, for those that could read the man.

Duo leaned closer to Heero, his voice barely above a growl, "Let go of my arm, Heero."

"I'll take Maxwell back to the shuttle," Wufei cut in before it could escalate further.

Heero set his jaw, but released his friend's arm. Duo let a toothy grin twist his face sharply as he turned, his eyes briefly connecting with ebony before stepping from the room. They could both feel everyone watching them as the walked away until the door swished closed, leaving them alone in the hallway. Duo stalked toward the lobby with Wufei pacing calmly beside him.

"Yuy's only trying to help," Wufei finally broke the silence.

Duo shot a glare at the man, "Is /that/ what he's trying to do?"

The Chinese man halfheartedly held up his hands, "I didn't say he was good at it."

"Well, no shit."

"You're not the only widower in the Earth Sphere, Maxwell."

Duo snorted, "What would you know about it?"

The Preventer was as serenely formal as ever, eyes closed and hands clasped behind his back, "I was married before the war."

"What?" Duo just stopped, staring wide-eyed at his chaperon.

Wufei halted after a step or two and turned back to face him, finally fixing him with a mild gaze, "I was married."

"When you were twelve?"

"Fourteen. Clan tradition."

"But…" Duo trailed off, scratching at his cheek.

"It was an arranged union. A contract between our families," Wufei explained.

Duo snorted, again, "How'd that work for you."

Wufei actually smiled, "We hated each other."

"What part of this are you trying to compare to me, exactly? Jesus, Wufei, I loved Hil-"

"Meiran taught me /everything/ about strength, courage, and honor. Even though we never consummated our marriage, I love her and still strive to be worthy of being her husband, my dear Nataku." Wufei's eyes were deep and weary and, for a second, Duo saw a different man. He saw a scholar, husband, and father, a man implacable, wise and deeply caring. It was a Wufei Chang without the war. Duo had to consciously force his mouth to close.

When he trusted his voice, he continued, "What happened?"

"She died saving our colony," he said simply. He didn't have to say 'the colony the Barton foundation had planned to drop on Earth that I later failed to save'; it was written on his face.

"I didn't know," Duo admitted quietly.

Wufei started walking again, "Of course not. It wasn't something a bachelor would understand."

Duo caught up, smiling a little at this new revelation. He had never considered love as an explanation for Wufei's harshness, but it made a certain sense, once you put it together. Vaguely, he realized Sally must know. After a minute, he remembered something from when they'd both been imprisoned on the moon. "Wait, so was that why you called your Gundams Nataku?"

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i **

Dinner was quiet, too quiet. As a matter of fact, the adults had all been suspiciously quiet since the three birthday celebrants had returned from their exploration. Tristiana glanced at the two boys across the table for confirmation to receive a small nod and a shrug. Usually, they'd simply take this as a sign of some present conspiracy or practical joke, which was not unheard of in this crowd. However, that always involved half-concealed smiles, choked laughter, and a general atmosphere of a bubbly nature, of which there was certainly none to be found. Tension was thick and Wufei was notably absent.

The younger children were chattering as happily as ever, but Quatrine was distracted, keeping one ear on the threatening undercurrent as the boys recapped their game. Her eldest sibling caught her eye, stealing glances down the table at the somber adults. With a small sigh, she turned to her father, who was sitting beside her, "Father? Where is Uncle Wufei?"

Every adult at the table froze, with the exception of Mariemaia, who knew enough to stay quiet. Quatre blinked down at his daughter, "Double checking the security, I think."

"Oh," the girl paused, watching their reactions. Fixing her large eyes on Quatre again, she explained, "I was worried. He hasn't said hello yet, and the last time anyone missed the party was when Uncle Heero was shot."

Catherine choked on her water and Relena quickly offered help. Trowa and Heero exchanged looks while the boys joined the silent watch with Mariemaia and the older siblings. Quatre was staring at the calm little girl. They all remembered that year. Everyone had assumed Quatrine had been too young, though.

"Wufei's fine. He just had to do some things before dinner. Much like Heero, Wufei's here because of work, so it has to come first." Quatre explained to all the children before settling his gaze on Quatrine.

She smiled, "I see."

The silence that followed was a fragile thing. The former pilots carefully went back to their meals. The children exchanged confused glances. Cathy was red faced and nodded as Relena whispered in her ear.

Relena stood behind Cathy's chair, "Alex, Tristiana, Deucalion. After dinner, we have something to discuss with you."

Heero slammed his fork back onto the table, "We do not."

"We haven't finished discussing that, yet, Relena," Quatre pacified coolly.

"Catherine," Trowa warned softly.

Catherine simply smiled sadly, unable to meet his eyes, "For Hilde."

Trowa and Quatre were struck equally dumb by the idea. Heero was not, standing to directly address Relena, "No."

"What in hell is going on?" Duecalion finally snapped. The three children in question were now standing.

"Language!" Quatre reprimanded, also standing incase he needed to vault the table to come between Protector and Protectorate.

"They deserve to choose for themselves!" Relena was preaching. Catherine's boys ran to her while Mariemaia hung back.

The Winner children stayed seated, though, since Deucalion stalking toward their father was no new sight, "What is she talking about, Father?"

"Not now, Deucalion! Heero," Quatre's attention was fixed across the table.

"It's not safe," Heero growled down at the stone solid blond.

"He's not your son!"

"Heero!" Quatre's sharp bark stopped the man's fist inches in front of the woman's wide blue eyes. Her bodyguard glared at her with old intensity, straining at Trowa's hold on his arm, and breathing heavily for long minutes in utter silence. Finally, he dropped his fist to his side and walked away in disgust. Quatre watched him storm out of the room, while Mariemaia helped a shaky, unresponsive Relena take a seat.

"What was that!" Deucalion yelped. Quatre turned pointedly to his son, then paced to the other side of the room. Deucalion followed.

Tristiana sidled up to her father, eyes brimming, "Dad?"

Trowa stopped, mid stride on his way out the door, and let the worry on his face melt into a smile for her. Suddenly, all those burning questions died on her lips. She sighed, leaning against his chest, letting his arms enfold her and his steady heartbeat assure her of his reality.

Occupied as they were, no one noticed Alex slip out the door Heero had used. Once outside, he sprinted down the hallway. He turned a corner and smacked hard into the man's chest.

"Ow! Hee-" The older man's hand clamped down hard over his mouth as he pushed the boy roughly against the wall. Alex blinked through his panic after finding struggle useless and finally looked Heero in the eye. Those eyes were calm and blue, but with a sharpness the boy had rarely ever seen before. In the silence, Alex could hear heavy footsteps and the chilling sound of metal on metal from around the corner. A single finger pressed to Heero's lips in a hushing motion and Alex nodded slowly. The bodyguard carefully withdrew his hand before flattening against the corner and using a small mirror to peek around it.

The air suddenly seemed thinner and Alex's quick, shallow breaths weren't cutting it. A hand on his shoulder, comforting in its strong grip, made him look at Heero again, the man's dark eyebrows rising into his thick bangs in silent question. The boy forced his breathing to slow and nodded. Apparently satisfied, Heero turned back to the corner, but left his hand on the boy's shoulder, steadying him. Footsteps were getting closer, Heero drew back a step, shielding Alex with his body and drawing his sidearm.

The boy's eyes grew and searched the hallway. Urgently, he tugged on Heero's shirt. Sharp blue eyes glared, but the boy was already a few steps down the hall, working on a keypad for a door marked 'Employees Only'. The bodyguard slide back along the wall, eyes on the corner. The door swished open and Alex let a small laugh of victory escape as two men carrying sub machine guns turned their corner. The two blinked in surprise. Heero didn't; one was dead before the other opened fire on an empty doorway.

Shoving Alex through first, Heero destroyed the door mechanisms on both sides before running after the boy, who'd bolted into the internal maze. He was a little surprised when Alex didn't even hesitate at the end of the hall, but turned sharply left and started opening another door.

"Alex…"

The boy didn't look up, but gestured at the door across the hall, "Shoot that lock."

Heero smashed it with a quick pistol whip instead as Alex's door swished smoothly open and he plunged through. Heero followed and helped push a heavy crate of spare hotel uniforms to bar the door before looking at what the schematics in his head told him was a locker room. Once it was in place, Alex collapsed against the cold metal of the crate and Heero finally saw the wet trails flowing from the boy's wide, vacant eyes.

Heero sat next him, "Alex."

The boy laughed a little maniacally, not looking at him, "We went through all the employee areas earlier today."

"It's alright," once again, his hand and his gaze helped squash the panic the boy was struggling to control. Slowly, he started to settle.

The dark blue eyes locked on Heero in lucid realization, "The others!"

Heero nodded, "I'm going to help. Stay here."

The boy grimaced at him, too afraid to ask his question. Heero gripped the boy's shoulder more tightly, "We'll take care of this."

The explosions that erupted, rocking the foundations of the sprawling hotel and plunging them into utter darkness, did not help reassure him in the least.

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_Easy does it, easy does it,_

_They've got something to say no to_

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**A/N** – Thanks for reading! Review so I can know what you think.

**Next Chapter** - This Old Guitar And An Empty Bottle Of Booze


	5. Ch05: And An Empty Bottle Of Booze

**In The Family**

Chapter 5

**This Old Guitar and an Empty Bottle of Booze**

By APs

Beta read by gothic-pixel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it…

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"Alright, Father, just what was Ms. Dorlian talking about?" Deucalion stood firm, arms crossed and eyebrows raised expectantly.

Quatre silently gauged his son for a long moment, absently smoothing his goatee. When he spoke, it was in a low, even tone, "If it was something terrible, would you still want to know?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Deuce burst, "I'm not playing games with you. Not when Heero nearly floored Aunt Relena, or did you not just see that?"

Quatre's gaze slipped away toward the floor, "I saw it."

"What is going on? Why was Heero so angry! Everyone knows Alex is adopted!" Deucalion let his hands fall open to his father, waiting for answers.

"That was something else," was Quatre's simple dismissal.

Deucalion's head bowed, casting his eyes in deep shadows, "Oh, no. Not this time, Father. You've been sidestepping and burying this for too long now, don't you dare lie to my face."

The blonde started, wide eyes on his son, "Excuse me?"

A slow mirthless smile started across Deucalion's face, "Who's Hilde, Father?"

"An old friend," Quatre stumbled, suddenly on the defensive and unsure exactly how he'd gotten there.

Deuce smiled, unconvinced, "An old friend? An old friend from the war, maybe?"

"We've talked about this-"

"No," Deucalion crowed, fists clenched, "every time I try to talk about this, you tell me nothing happened. Bullshit! It was a war, _something_ happened and it's not going to go away! So, what the hell was it!"

Quatre gaped at his son in pure shock, too far gone to even correct his language out of habit. Slowly, the surprise began to subside and, instead of hurt pride or anger, a sudden recognition began to take root. He stared at the person before him as though he hadn't seen him in quite some time and wondered when he'd missed his son starting to become a young man.

The deafening explosion swallowed his response as four men burst into the room handling some serious firepower like amateurs. Quatre managed to lock eyes with Trowa, who was still hugging a much calmer Tristiana, and nod in the time it took the squad to properly enter the room. In the seconds before they spouted their demands, Quatre grabbed Deucalion by the back of the neck, making him duck as they ran, and broke to the right of the table. Trowa sprang to the left. So, when it came, the clumsy gunfire trailed after them and away from the table.

Tristiana had felt her father shift his weight and moved with him, just like they did in their act, step for step. They smashed through the kitchen doors and Trowa was suddenly gone from her side, "DAD!"

She wheeled, dropping beside him as deep red was already pooling on the white tile floor from the gaping wound in his leg, and puked. Panicking, violet eyes flicked between his wound, his face and the door. She could hear shouts beyond it, getting closer. Biting her lip, she silently pleaded with him to get up.

Trowa's hand gently cupped her cheek, the other pressing cold metal into her palm, "Go."

The next heartbeat, the doors to the banquet hall banged open. Two thugs leveled their oversized hand cannons at the wounded man on the floor, hands raised in surrender. As they roughly dragged him back into the hall, one grumbled something about the man deserving to bleed to death while the other mumbled angrily about idiots. Meanwhile, one scared girl stretched in the overhead ventilation, doing her best not to breathe, clutching her father's gun, and beginning to realize exactly how terrifying it was going to be to do this performance alone.

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i **

"Damn," Duo breathed beside Wufei. From their cover in the shuttle bay, they could see the heavily fortified entrance to the hotel proper. Apparently, they'd come to the same conclusion: too many guards, too well armed. Someone would get an alert out before they could take them all down and that was not an option with hostages involved. Duo glared, "Damn it to Hell."

Silent as ghosts, the two ex-pilots went back to their shuttle. Wufei's eyes drifted calmly over the smashed comm. station without betraying his thoughts. They'd tried contacting someone inside, first. Then, on a hunch, they'd tried Preventers. They both knew the effects of jamming equipment; they both knew what it meant, too. Duo had demonstrated his frustrations to the station rather emphatically. Neither had commented on it.

The American paced, every muscle taught, a murderous scowl in place. Wufei cut across his path, bringing it to a stop without actual confrontation. Duo glared as the other placidly unlocked his personal compartment in the shuttle. He removed his glasses carefully and swept his hair into a tight ponytail, which fell down his back like a single graceful stroke of a calligraphers brush.

"I'm not just waiting for the cavalry," Duo warned him, heat boiling in the low growl.

"Neither am I," Wufei snorted back and turned to offer his handgun to the other. Duo blinked, his eyes wide for a beat before he smirked. Shinigami took hold of the gun, but Wufei didn't let go. Surprised, frustrated, Duo looked up to find Wufei gauging him. He didn't call the American an idiot, didn't admonish his agitation. Those onyx eyes waited, abstract as a haiku, making the same strange sense. Duo softened, taking a deep breath and nodding as he forced his body to relax. Wufei released the gun and let a small smile touch his lips while he turned to take up his sword.

"How are we getting in?" Duo was beside the Preventer, checking equipment.

Their enemy had secured the hotel, but was trying not to let it show outside the compound. With comms dead and whatever had exploded, it could look like a disaster and not a hostage situation. It also made for dodgy security out in the open. Wufei really did smile as he tossed Duo one of the insolated spacesuits.

Duo glowered between the suit and his partner, then rolled his eyes with a theatrical sighed, "I swear to God, I don't know what I did to piss this rock off."

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i **

Once they'd cleared the banquet hall, Deucalion ran and didn't look back. He could hear his father sprinting behind him, knew he was there. So, when he rounded a corner and found the wrong end of a couple submachine guns, he was shocked to find his father beside him, firing back as he let inertia pull them both clear through the crossroad. Looking up from the ground, he saw his father firing around the corner, a hole in his upper right sleeve.

"You're shot!" Deucalion went rigid halfway to his feet, eyes fixed on the wound.

"I'm fine!" Quatre roared, grabbing him with the arm in question and pushing him down the hall.

"You're not fine!" Deucalion shouted over the din, keeping his head down as he zagged hard right.

Quatre counted his shots quickly under his breath. He smashed a fire alarm on the run and sprinted for the end of the corridor. The airtight fire door hissed shut behind them; bullets bounced off the thick metal. Father and son locked eyes, "I said its fine."

Deucalion rolled his eyes, then looked either way down their hallway, "Sure. We need to go right."

"The rooms are to the left," Quatre corrected.

Deucalion glared, "Medical supplies are to the right."

"For the last time-"

Deuce grabbed his father's sleeve in both hands and ripped it open, then stumbled back, "Holy shit!"

Without a word, Quatre pulled the fabric closed with his left hand. Deucalion gaped at his father, mouth working, but no sound coming out. Quatre couldn't even look at him.

"Shouldn't stop here. It's not secure," the pair turned sharply at the voice.

Quatre brought his firearm down with a smile, "Heero!"

The bodyguard nodded, eyes flitting about the scene, lingering on Deucalion and Quatre's sleeve, "Let's go."

Heero offered a hand to Deucalion while Quatre checked the hallway beyond the door through which Heero had appeared. Quiet as mice, they worked their way through the hotel, back to the locker room. Heero tapped out a rhythm waited for the answer from inside, then tapped a reply. Only his eyes narrowed when the door swished open on a gun in his face.

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i **

The jammer was a double edged sword. On the one hand, it made wireless communications in, to, from, and around the hotel impossible, thus cutting off outside help and inside conspiracy. On the other, it mussed the cameras and scrambled a lot of the external sensors. A jammer was an undirected weapon with as much chance of hurting you as your enemy, if used improperly.

The two ex-pilots rounded the hotel's domed structure, making for the back, where their attackers weren't expecting anyone and security would be lax. As the arms came into view, it became obvious what the explosions had been. The large, solar shielded boulevards that had connected each of the arms to the central hub had been breached. They'd been blown wide open and all evidence pointed to the outbuildings of the arms having not been sealed. The vacuum bloated body of one of the young maids was lying face up in the moon sand.

Wufei wished their comms worked before noticing the way Duo was shaking, fists clenched and head ducked; he decided it was good the other could vent his grief and anger. Duo profaning heavily while weeping had been the last thing the Chinese man had heard from him fourteen years ago; he had no desire to hear it again. For his part, Wufei burned the image into his memory. It would not go unanswered for. Duo turned back to the base abruptly, new purpose in his bouncing step.

They headed for one of the manual airlocks and Wufei noted a clear trail to it coming out of the lunar east. That explained the lack of proximity alarms; people in suits wouldn't set them off. These people had taken a walk that should have been too long to survive.

They got in, sealed it and waited for the air to hiss in. Keeping the suits on, in case someone noticed and tried to space them, they pressed against the front wall on either side of the inner door. When they were green and the doors slid open, the two waited. They heard two guards arguing about the airlock in hushed confusion, apparently they _had_ been expecting someone. One came to investigate and Duo sent him flying back into the other with a punch that had to of broken the man's jaw at least.

The second fumbled to recover a second too long and Duo was on him. He folded fast, but Duo wasn't done. Blow after blow, the man's face dissolved into a bloody mess. He just kept swinging, until a strong pair of arms clasped around him. He struggled, thrashing in blind rage to get at his unconscious victim, but those arms may as well have been steel restraints, the other body pressed close against his back granite hard and unyielding. Slowly, he cooled, then stopped, sinking into the strong embrace. Wufei held on tight until Duo stopped shaking.

They stripped the suits and stashed both them and the guards in the airlock. Wufei was checking over the weapons they'd confiscated when he heard the outer door disengage with the soul chilling sound of rapid decompression. Duo stared him straight in the eye, his hand still on the controls, daring the Preventer to protest.

"They're fine," Wufei asserted instead. "They were in the banquet hall."

The American looked away first, taking one of the sub machine guns, "They better be."

He scouted one side of the hall as Wufei scouted the other. The Preventer paused, thought he'd heard something. It took another second to pick the light hiss out of the background. He glared over his gun barrel at the vent grate on the ceiling, "Who goes?"

"Uncle Wufei?" the voice was small, shaky, and feminine.

"Tristiana?" In an instant, the grate burst open and the girl was in the Preventer's arms, quivering like a leaf against his chest.

"Hey, what are you-" Duo's hiss was cut off when a young arm leveled a gun at his head over Wufei's shoulder. Wufei turned to look, revealing the frazzled, but steady girl and Duo froze.

Wufei settled a sheltering arm across her shoulders as he gently guided her arms down. Her violet eyes twitched to him uncertainly, but he shook his head, "It's okay. He's with us."

Violet eyes seemed doubtful, but concede to Wufei's unwavering certainty and collapsed to his chest again. The look of barely restrained heartbreak and relief the Preventer caught flashing over Duo's face made him sigh lightly.

"Are you hurt?" She shook her head without moving. "Where's Trowa?"

The girl looked up, opened her mouth, but no sound came. She looked at the floor again.

"We should move," Duo spoke softly, eyes anywhere, but the girl.

Tristiana went rigid, her little voice straining, "Not that way!"

They looked at her and she pointed up. The two men looked at the grate, then at each other.

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i **

Heero pushed the gun out of his face and breezed into the quickly crowding locker room, grunting as he passed the Chinese Preventer, "Chang."

"I told you it was Heero," Alex sulked from where he sat next to Tristiana.

"Yuy. Winner," Wufei acknowledged, lowering his weapon. He quickly helped move the crates back into place.

Heero checked on Tristiana, then glared at the newcomers, "How'd you find us?"

Deucalion answered as he drifted toward the other children, "This was one of the rendezvous points we set up today."

Growing up playing hide and seek with ex-terrorists had its benefits, it appeared. Seems they'd taught the kids more than they thought. The bodyguard looked back at the other ex-pilots, "How'd you get to us?"

Duo rolled his eyes, "Magic."

"Vents," Wufei corrected. He turned to Quatre, "They secured the recycler, but not the vents. It's the same with the hotel entrance, but not the shuttle docks. They have teams patrolling on scheduled circuits inside the main structure." He looked at the three minors and decided to wait to finish. The others followed easily enough.

"Where's Trowa?" Heero growled past Quatre, who was still oddly quiet.

Duo and Wufei exchanged a dubious look, but a ghostly voice drifted from the girl on the bench, "Wounded."

They all let out a small sigh of relief. A throat was cleared and all eyes turned on Deucalion. He glared at the adults as he rested a hand on each of the other teens, "What the hell is going on here?"

The ex-pilots had a silent conference. Duo threw his hands up and walked away to lean against the wall, eyes closed. Heero answered, "We have a hostage situation."

"I figured that out, thanks," Deucalion snapped. "I meant you. All of you. You're all acting like you've done this before. Everybody's got a freaking gun!"

Quatre sighed, "Watch your language, Deucalion. We don't have time-"

"No! Fuck that! I'm sick of your stupid taboos! It's time you did some explaining!" Tristiana and Alexander were staring up at Deucalion right along with the rest of the room. "Why don't any of you talk about the war? Why doesn't Tris have a birth certificate, or a picture of her mother? Why didn't anyone claim Alex? What the hell got into everyone at dinner? How long has your arm been made out of metal? Who the hell is Hilde?"

Heavy silence settled, the three men unable to move to even confer with each other. A voice came from the back, "Hilde Maxwell was your mother."

Deucalion blinked at the bleach blond newcomer, "Not mine."

"Yes, yours," Duo looked up, smiling softly at the three children. "All three of you, actually. You're triplets. It's common among colonial families."

"W- what?" Deucalion tore his eyes from the stranger and turned them on the others. Heero was glaring at Duo. Quatre couldn't look at any of them. Wufei just nodded, calm as ever.

"But that means," Tristiana started slowly. She was pale, looked almost sick, "we're… all of us are…"

"Related? Adopted?" Duo supplied the words she seemed hung up on.

"How?" Alexander blurted. "I mean, what happened? To my- our- What happened to Hilde?"

"Protesters bombed a memorial dedication. It was a big event, pulled a lot of important peacemakers. Your mother had been a soldier. She felt it was important she be there. You three were a month shy of one year old. The way she spoke, you'd think the three of you were the future of humanity and peace in the Earth Sphere." He paused to laugh softly, "Anyway, the protesters felt certain parts used in the making of the memorial glorified certain war criminals, so they threw bombs into the crowd to punish them. Hilde… jumped on one. Didn't even hesitate… Saved you three and God knows how many others. Other parts of the crowd… It was a bad day."

The silence that followed was heavy, crushing. It was the kind of silence that could buckle your knees and squeeze your heart. Deucalion sat beside his siblings on the bench. Everyone waited.

Finally, Alex looked up, "How could you know all that? Wh- who are you?"

"I'm Duo Maxwell." He watched the lights connect like arches of lightening. He didn't smile, "I'm your father."

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_Daddy left home when I was three_

_And he didn't leave much to ma and me_

_Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze._

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**A/N** – Half way! Reviews are lovely. **Peloponnese**, at least it wasn't a long wait.

**Next Chapter** – Don't Be Stupid, Be A Smarty


	6. Ch06: Don't Be Stupid, Be A Smarty

**In The Family**

Chapter 6

**Don't Be Stupid, Be A Smarty**

By APs

Beta read by gothic-pixel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it…

**i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i!i **

"Trowa!" Catherine yelped from where she and the children had been herded as the two thugs dropped the wounded man heavily onto the main table, having thrown back the tablecloth, food and all. The armed man watching over them roughly shoved her back into her chair with enough force that anyone else would have been flat on their back. As it was, she rebalanced without thought and glared, grabbing her twins, Triton and Tommy, before they could do something foolish.

Relena watched from where she sat rigidly, armed guard before her and Mariemaia at her back. Her eyebrows rose and her mouth set as she watched the rough treatment of her friends and their children. Trowa wasn't moving, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Her gaze landed squarely on the man in front of her, "May my attendant see to that man's wound?"

"No," the man barked, utter hatred burning in his eyes.

Relena carefully lowered her voice, "It will keep the children from panicking."

The man stared at her until she was almost sure he wasn't going to answer at all before motioning to one of the men guarding the doors. The man hustled over and the guard pointed at Mariemaia, "Let this woman see to Mister Bloom."

The man nodded and Mariemaia allowed herself to be pulled toward the table, eyes cast down. Quatrine watched intently from between Tahir and Wahid, who were huddled protectively close. She could feel Tahir's angry tension and Wahid's fearful shivers. Tahir was a gangly thirteen years old and full of fire. Wahid was still a round faced boy of eleven. The twins fell between them at twelve, Tommy strong as an ox and Triton quick as a whip. They all took their lead from Tahir, who was twitching to do something foolish. Quatrine slipped her small hand in his, gazing up with her big eyes, and he settled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Satisfied, she went back to watching the others.

Mariemaia tore the tablecloth, making quick work of a tourniquet around Trowa's slender upper thigh. Then, she tore the jeans away from the hole. With a couple of the glasses of water that hadn't been knocked over, she managed to clean and dress the wound in a very basic sense. She moved slowly toward his head, searching for any other wounds and checking his pulse at his throat. Then she leaned over, pulled the lid of one of his eyes open and stiffened.

Across the room, Quatrine started sobbing uncontrollably into Tahir's chest. All eyes turned to the small girl as she collapsed, red faced to her knees, while a steak knife slipped from Mariemaia's sleeve to under Trowa's down turned palm.

"Quiet that brat!" Relena's guard bellowed as Catherine scooped the child into her lap. The girl whimpered, wiping crocodile tears from her face with the heels of her hand while Catherine rocked her slightly and shot reprimanding looks at the flabbergasted boys.

The man in front of Catherine leered at her, "Keep her quiet, or I'll give her something to cry about."

Tahir and the boys closed ranks around Catherine, looking as menacing as young boys could, while Mariemaia returned to Relena. The Foreign Minister asked with her eyes and was answered with a hand on her shoulder and a small smile. Relena closed her eyes to hide her relief.

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"This is so… weird," Alex whispered in the back corner of the locker room, where the three siblings had retreated. Deucalion nodded, eyes fixed toward the front of the room.

"…We're siblings," Tristiana tested the statement out. It felt awkward in her mouth, but not bad. After all, they had known each other forever.

"Weird," Alex reiterated. He looked at Tristiana apologetically, "Now that crush I had on you just seems creepy."

The girl paled, "Ew."

"How was I supposed to know?" He pleaded in his defense.

"They knew," Deucalion declared without looking at them.

Tristiana watched him with uncertain eyes, "Deuce?"

The boy turned and surveyed the other two coolly. Without a word, he gathered them both in his arms and hugged them tight. When he finally let them go, they each wiped their tearstained faces. Once he got his breathing back to normal, Deucalion fixed Alex with an even eye, "Tell us what you know."

Alex nodded, "It's not much. The Memorial was made of scraped mobile suits. Apparently, the protesters were objecting to the use of Gundam parts."

"Gundams?" Tristiana blurted in surprise. They knew vaguely about the Gundams from school and general discussion; the way children knew about hurricanes or other natural disasters before their births.

Alex scratched his cheek, "Yeah. The protesters claimed that the Gundams were war criminals and terrorists, not soldiers worth honoring. It's not the party line of universal forgetfulness, but most of them were family of Gundam victims. I suppose you could almost count us among them."

"Hm," Deucalion watched his brother carefully, wheels turning in his head.

"Hilde Maxwell," Tristiana whispered. "Our mom was a hero…"

"Yeah," Alex agreed. His eyes strayed toward the front of the room, "But what are we suppose to do about… him?"

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Duo was watching the others. Heero had disappeared into the vents as soon as the children had silently excused themselves from their collective company. Wufei was meditating off to the side of the door. The Preventer had chosen a place where he could guard both the door and the vent, but was in a direct line of fire from neither. Quatre was in a corner, his right side facing the wall and a screwdriver in his left hand. It appeared he was attempting to remove something from his right bicep.

Using all of his considerable stealth, Duo made his way over to Wufei and sat down beside him. He was only a little surprised when the Chinese man slightly opened his eyes and looked at him through his lashes. Duo leaned a bit closer, eyes watching Quatre, "How much?"

"About a third," Wufei replied in a low murmur. He closed his eyes again, "Arm, leg above the knee, three ribs, eardrums, a kidney." Duo searched the floor, his jaw clenching tight.

"You forgot half a lung," Quatre reminded softly from across the room. He was watching them in exasperated calm, only the slightest hint of sadness.

"I didn't know," Duo apologized.

Quatre went back to fixing his arm, "Of course not. You left before the decision to amputate was finalized."

Silence. Duo watched as Quatre put his right arm back together, "That's based on our suits, isn't it."

Quatre nodded, flexing his arm experimentally, "Advanced prosthetics utilizing mobile suit technology on a small scale. Synthetic skin insulates and lubricates. They use a reactive neural interface to smooth out the motion, mimic muscle memory."

Duo raised an eyebrow, "The Zero system?"

"Parts of it," Quatre conceded as he got up, unbuttoning his ruined dress shirt. "My case was very prototypical. The newer ones are programmed on a case to case basis. At the moment, it's just a matter of making sure it's affordable."

The American let a grin slip across his face, "Mobile suit medicine. That's something I never thought I'd hear."

"It was a pet project of mine, even before the bombing." The blonde left his shirt in a pile at the end of a row of lockers, exposing his bare back to his fellow ex-pilots. An angry purple scar was the only mark denoting where the man's body stopped and the metal started. The synthetic skin matched his rather well, though it lacked the numerous scars the rest of his body sported. Where it was torn away on his bicep, the metal was shiny panels, gently faceted. The outside of his bicep sported two heavy dents and a jagged little hole.

Duo looked away when he couldn't bear anymore, "Why was that?"

"I thought Sandrock deserved a chance to fix something." He paused to shrug on a simple dress shirt from one of the hotel uniforms. "And Mariemaia deserved to walk."

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"I have to go to the bathroom." All eyes in the banquet hall landed on little Wahid as he danced from foot to foot.

"Hold it," Relena's guard snapped after the smallest glance.

"I- I can't," the boy whined, starting to sniffle.

"I need to go too," Tahir added. The twins nodded mutely.

Their guard rolled his eyes and pointed at a rather expensive looking vase just down the wall from where the children had been sitting, "Go in the pot."

The boys looked at Catherine, who nodded, and quickly went to do their business. Blushing, Quatrine tugged on Catherine's shirt and whispered something into the woman's ear.

"What did she say?" The tall guard eyed them suspiciously.

Catherine gave him a flat look, "She has to go, too."

"Well, there you go," he gestured toward the vase from which the boys were just returning.

The two females simply seemed offended, "Can I at least take her to the kitchen?"

Their tall, skinny guard looked to Relena's hard muscled one. He considered the children for a moment before motioning one of the door guards to them. Their whip thin guard grabbed Catherine roughly by the arm, "Alright, move it."

When they made it past the kitchen doors, try as she might, Catherine couldn't help looking down at the small pool of her brother's blood. A sharp jab from the barrel of a submachine gun brought her back to the present and she headed quickly to the sink with Quatrine. She lifted the small girl onto the counter, where she put one tiny foot on the sink partition, straddling one of the basins. She looked down, about to hike up her skirt, and caught Catherine eyeing three little paring knives in the bottom of the sink.

The girl paused, looking shyly at their captor, "Could you turn around?"

The man glared, "No."

"Please?" The girl started to flush and tears welled in her eyes, "Can you please turn around?"

"For crying out loud," he turned his back, growling curses.

Catherine waited until Quatrine hiked her skirt and started to go before moving. She silently snatched up the sharp little knives, rolled them smartly in a small towel and stowed them before the girl was done. Without a word, Catherine helped the girl wash her hands and the three of them headed back to the banquet hall.

Quatrine was regarding their escort, "Are you a bad man?"

He glared icy daggers at her as they marched across the room, "No, kid, we're the good guys."

"Oh," she turned her grave aquamarine eyes on him, "My father says guns are only used by the bad, the sad, or the scared." The man froze and Quatrine stopped with him, "You don't seem scared. Are you sad?"

The back of the man's hand across her face drove the girl viciously to the ground. The room seethed. Catherine moved to place herself between the man and the child, but he stopped her with his weapon, walking toward Quatrine's small form with dark purpose, "Is that what your daddy said, little brat?"

"Charles!" A voice from the main doorway made him stop, look up. A sophisticated older gentleman, perhaps fifty, stood in the door, flanked before and behind by armed men. He was quick to push past his guards, kneeling at Quatrine's side and putting his own handkerchief to the little girls bleeding nose. He scooped her up as though she weighed nothing, deposited her in Catherine's arms, and wheeled abruptly on the unmoving guard, now known as Charles. "What were you doing?"

Charles' thin face turned red, "She was-"

"She's nine!" He let that ring through the man's head for a moment. When he continued, his voice was colder than ice, "Report to the main entrance barricade."

Charles hesitated, but nodded and was gone. The older man sighed and escorted Catherine back to her seat, "I am very sorry. Is she alright?"

Catherine glared at him, clutching the girl as though he might try to steal her. They both jumped when Quatrine answered, "I'm fine, sir. Would you like your kerchief back?"

"You keep it as long as you have need of it." He straightened, taking in the room, the wounded man on the table, the four boys, and the two women in the corner. Frowning, he approached Relena's guard. The older man was a full foot shorter than the other, but the guard deferred heavily to him. "What is going on? Where are the others?"

"Miss Dorlian's bodyguard and son, as well as the Preventer, were gone when we entered. Bloom and Winner rabbitted. Winner and his oldest got away, as did Bloom's daughter," the man reported quickly.

"I see that," the gentleman sighed, running a hand through thick, silver shot black hair. "Why was I not informed we had Miss Peacecraft, a wounded man, and the children?"

The muscle bound guardsman fidgeted, "We wanted to secure Winner first, sir."

Before the gentleman could reply, Relena cut in, "May I ask by whom I have the pleasure of being held hostage this time?"

The man bowed slightly, "We are the Orphanhood."

"And you are?" She pressed, making it personal.

He smiled, but bowed again, deep and flourished, "I am Viscount Vasska."

Relena raised both eyebrows and blinked. She didn't recognize the name, but the title had caught her off guard. In an attempt to distance themselves from the Romefeller Foundation, many families had opted to drop the hereditary titles as a show of goodwill. The Viscount chuckled at her blank surprise, "I was never very political and I'm afraid it has only gotten worse in my old age, as I've become a rather private man. I am not terribly shocked that you don't know me, Miss Foreign Minister."

"What do you want?" Relena queried, more direct in an attempt to win back the ground her moment of surprise had lost.

His answer was cold, "The Gundam pilots."

Her chin rose defensively, "It's a matter of public record that-"

"I am aware of the press releases, Miss Foreign Minister. According to public record, Preventers does not exist and the lovely Miss Mariemaia standing behind you has been under strict house arrest since she was six." He paused to appreciate the astonishment blooming on the redhead's face, though Relena maintained her flawless calm. He continued with a charming smile, "I think we can agree they are misleading, at best."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Relena's voice was smooth, like the edge of a knife you didn't feel cutting you.

Vasska gazed at her pityingly, "I'm calling you a politician. A young one, at that, when the Peace was being established."

"So you consider the Peace a mistake, Mr. Vasska?" she let the congenial bottom drop out of the debate. This wasn't going to be a negotiation, more like a siege.

"No," he shook his head like a disappointed father, "quite the opposite. I understand only too well its necessity. That being said, this pseudo-amnesty of silence and fear was an error which I can only credit to the youth and optimism of those involved."

"In other words, a child's blunder," the blonde woman ripped the thin veil from the insult with a mirthless smile. "The Earth Sphere Unified Nation deserves more credit. It decided not to point fingers, or take eyes."

"Everyone seems to conveniently forget that 'an eye for an eye' was a practice of mercy and justice. Sparing war criminals from fair trials does not undo their crimes, nor allow their victims to forget them." Vasska seemed suddenly very old, his voice bitterly hollow.

Relena saw an opening, "And how do you answer for your own crimes?"

Vasska scowled slightly, "The Memorial bombing was the sad result of misdirected grieve and desperation. It was the catalyst for our group, not its product. In a way the responsibility for both it and what we are doing now lies at your own feet."

"Bullshit!" Mariemaia finally burst, only to wilt under a match set of icy glares.

Vasska answered chillingly, "It is true, Miss Barton-Khushrenada, just as the responsibility for your little attempted coup lies not with you, but Dekim Barton. Justice is wasted on powerless pawns and figureheads." He pinned the young redhead with a stern gaze until absolutely sure she wouldn't speak again, then returned to Relena, "If the ESUN had addressed the issue, at all, we would not be having this conversation."

"The Scientists responsible for the Gundams are dead. The pilots were only soldiers." That had been made public, no need to hide it.

"They were symbols. You made them symbols and it's well documented that the pilots often acted as independent terrorist cells, working on their own initiative." A patronizing smile settled on his lips, "And I refuse to believe that the destruction of colonies was an order."

Relena felt her veins freeze. Her shoulders set, her breath, already controlled, became deeply rhythmic. The Foreign Minister brought to bear all she had, cold steel that had pinned death beneath the same unimpressed gaze with which she now regarded the Viscount. "War is a type of insanity, Mr. Vasska. Our war concluded seventeen years ago. I am deeply saddened yours still has not."

The man regarded her gravely, letting a sigh escape as the weight of those years almost visibly settled on him. He did not refute her insinuation, nor did he break. Like fine old leather, he accepted his load and continued gracefully, "Seventeen years, yes. By God, we gave you more than enough time to deal with this. It took us seventeen years to bring these skeletons to light, to secure proof."

"All I see is proof of your perpetuation of needless violence," Relena pressed.

Vasska humbly shook his head, "No, Ms. Peacecraft, we have in our possession damning evidence of not only your involvement with the terrorists in question, but also that of Winner Enterprises'. If you will not give us the pilots, if you deny us peace and justice, then we will have no recourse but to take our pound of flesh from you and Mr. Winner."

The Foreign Minister dissected the man and without hesitation, called his bluff, "No such information exists, Viscount."

"I assure you, it is very real, Ms. Peacecraft. It was provided to us by the one person you have lied to more than the general public," he regarded the woman seated before him with weary, ancient eyes and smiled, "your son."

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_Don't be stupid, be a smarty,_

_Come and join the Nazi party._

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**A/N – **Reviews are lovely. If you've made it this far, what's a couple seconds, right?

**Peloponnese** – Everybody seems to pick up on one out of the three. The strange thing is it's a different one each time. And, don't worry, there's still plenty to come.

**Next Chapter - **Ha Ha Ha Bless Your Soul


	7. Ch07: Ha Ha Ha Bless Your Soul

**In The Family**

Chapter 7

**Ha Ha Ha Bless Your Soul**

By APs

Beta read by gothic-pixel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it…

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Heero tumbled back into the room silently, landing as lightly as a cat and glaring to outdo a prowling panther. Wufei and Quatre exchanged a small knowing look. Duo, despite having seen that specific glower before, was less sure of its peacetime meaning and let his hand dip toward Wufei's gun at his belt. The Preventer felt the rise in tension and cast a pacifying glance the American's way. Quatre kept his voice low, "What's wrong?"

When Heero spoke, his voice was dark and smooth with a smoldering hint of fire, like good whiskey, "There's a leak. You and Relena have been compromised."

What little color Quatre had drained from him in a heartbeat, still unable, or unwilling, to hide his emotions. Heero settled hard blue eyes on Duo, who was wholly unsurprised, "You knew. That's why you're here."

"I was following a possible leak," he conceded, getting to his feet. Heero Yuy's patented death glare didn't need the added advantage of height.

The bodyguard crossed his arms over his chest, almost as though restraining himself, "And you didn't feel the need to share the information?"

"I thought I could stop the… leak quietly, if there was one." It took one look for Duo to realize Heero knew exactly about what, and whom, he was talking. Heero surprised him by looking away first.

"What's the situation, Yuy?" Wufei found himself being pragmatic.

Heero nodded, jumping into a full report a little too readily, "They've secured the main lobby, the banquet hall, and all obvious routes between them with a small contingent fortifying life support systems. They're keeping the hostages in the banquet hall, at the moment. Trowa is prone on a center table, Relena and Mariemaia are in the southeast corner, and Catherine and the children are against the North wall."

Wufei caught a ripple of tension from the word 'hostages' and pushed them along, "Numbers and armaments?"

"Twenty-nine, with four confirmed casualties." He hefted one of the guns Wufei and Duo had confiscated, "These contraband smgs are the norm, though several have secondary sidearms and five are carrying shotguns, civilian grade. Half appear to have had military training. No uniforms, no ranks. They call themselves the Orphanhood. Their leader is a 'Viscount Vasska'."

"Vasska?" Quatre and Wufei asked sharply in concert.

Duo blinked at the pair, "You've heard of him?"

"The Vasska family was a minor industrial family in the Romefeller Foundation. Warmongers of the worst order. They were one of the many interests pressuring my father. They didn't last the war." Quatre quietly reported, mind seemingly elsewhere.

Wufei frowned at him, "A Nicholai Vasska was petitioned to join Preventers by Director Une. He refused, but Une has kept him on the lists."

The others all shot the Chinese Preventer their attention, even Heero, who had been busying himself with sketching the building and enemy positions. Une considered this man competent and, more striking, trustworthy. All agents had to have Une's final approval, but few had her initial invitation. That was a list which neither Sally nor Wufei had made.

Duo shifted, a restless frown playing across his features, "Yeah, well, he's been snapping at my goddamn heels for years. Didn't think they had anything solid."

"They don't." Quatre looked around the room from the bench he'd perched on and realized that one would need a little explanation, "They can't have names or they wouldn't only be after Relena and me. I'd say they have financial records at best- something to prove a connection, but a tenuous one. They're here to ransom names out of us."

Heero nodded, "Relena's holding."

"So, our move should be… what exactly?" Duo asked as all eyes slid to Quatre.

"Nothing," the blond managed flatly, even as the other adults were giving him unconvinced looks. "Keeping everyone safe is priority one. Une will send agents when we don't check in."

"Bullshit!" The entire room blinked in surprise at Tristiana, who glared back shakily. "My da- Trowa's been shot! We can't just wait!"

"Tristiana," Quatre started in a warning tone, but the girl wasn't having it.

"If you cowards won't do anything, I will!" There was a flash as she sprang into the vent and then she was gone.

"Tris!" Alex appeared in the stunned silence, with Deucalion just behind him. "What happened?"

"We have to go after her!" Quatre's voice was almost strangled as he leapt to his feet.

Heero grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, "Stay. Duo and I'll get her back."

"We'll go, too," Deucalion informed them, already moving toward the vent. "We know better where she'd go."

Heero nodded, but Quatre hesitated, "But-"

"Stay." Heero commanded again and forced the blond back onto the bench. The bodyguard spared a glance at the Preventer and then was gone, too. The silence that fell was heavy, almost a solid thing. Quatre sat, starring straight ahead at open air and feeling the burning ghost of Heero's grip on his shoulder. He barely registered Wufei sitting behind him on the bench.

When he spoke, his voice was a fragile whisper, almost appalled of itself, "Oh, God, Wufei… What have I done?"

"Nothing," the Chinese man sighed, "She's not thinking."

"No," Quatre corrected him sharply, "I wasn't. Trowa could bleed to death and we all know it. Oh, God… They have my family, Wufei. They have my boys and my little girl and I just sent the rest of them… If anything happens to Tristiana…"

"She's a smart girl," Wufei noted with a hint of pride, "And if anyone can find her, it's that group."

"I'm a terrible father."

The snort Wufei made was indelicate and surprisingly loud, "You're an idiot."

Quatre mulled that over for a while, sniffed, swiped at both eyes, and forced his breath to slow. He snatched up Heero's discarded drawing and gave it a cursory glance before finally turning, "Right. We're going to need a damn good plan before they get back."

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Deucalion led them through the vents without even the slightest hesitation. Twists and turns were apparently no obstacle and it wasn't long before he was dropping through another grating into a dark, empty room. The others followed, quiet as shadows. Alexander had always been the best sneak of the three. He was also the least patient, so it was no surprise when he snapped on the light.

Alex also knew where they were, "What are we doing in a supply closet?"

Deucalion pounced on the other boy, grabbing him by the shirt and slamming him against the back wall, "You festering little prick, how dare you!"

"Woah!" Duo started to pull Deucalion's arm away from his brother just to have Deucalion's venomous stare turned on him. He took a step back; it was shocking to see Shinigami in someone else's eyes.

"Deuce?" Heero's tone was half question, half warning.

"He's the one! He hacked our computers! He put our family in danger!" He was growling now as Alex stopped trying to fight and everything suddenly seemed to drain out of him. "It's all his fault."

The adults looked at each other and Duo apparently drew the short straw, "We know."

"What!" Deucalion whirled, but Alex stayed pinned to the wall.

"We need to find Tristiana," Heero tried to refocus them.

"I trust her not to do anything stupid," Deuce shot back, "Unlike some of my siblings."

A tiny voice drifted into the discussion, "This wasn't supposed to-"

"What was supposed to happen, Alex!" Deucalion had turned again, but he only slapped a hand against the wall on either side of Alex, his anger waning. "What was supposed to happen when you aid a known terrorist organization? Hacking family files, using illegal jammers- dammit, you know better! You are better!"

Alex was starting to cry and Duo moved to break it up, but Heero stopped him with a gesture. Alex found something extremely interesting on the floor, "Screw you, Deuce. They said they could get me answers and no one would get hurt. What did you want me to do?"

"Tell somebody, you idiot!" He straightened, though he didn't back away, "Tell me. I'm your brother, dammit. You should have come to me. We're family."

Heero was burning holes in Duo, but the American couldn't bring himself to meet the other man's gaze, especially since he knew it wouldn't be a glare he'd find. The message got through anyway: they needed to talk.

Alex was fixated on Deucalion, absently biting his thumbnail, "We can get to the jammer… but Tris-"

"Won't do anything stupid," Deuce repeated. "She's just frustrated and scared. Once she sees there's nothing to do, she'll head back to the locker room."

"Where's the jammer?" Heero finally broke in, making both boys jump a little.

Alex looked from Deucalion to Heero to Duo to the floor, chewing on his thumbnail until Deuce slapped him lightly on the back of the head, "Ow! Geez, it's in conference room C, alright. I had to wire it into the audio-visual network to boost the signal and power it."

Heero grunted, but Duo let go a low whistle, "You can do that?"

Alex let a shy smirk slip onto his lips, but Deuce snorted, "Yeah, he's a regular prodigy. Let's go."

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Sally snarled at the controls as she orbited the black hole in her sensors yet again, "I can't land this thing flying blind!"

"Deucalion probably could," Fahima huffed quietly from the copilot's seat.

"Yeah, well so could a few other people, but none of them are here at the moment," Sally hissed.

With a final, decisive huff, Fahima unfastened herself and darted toward the aft cabin. It took Sally a couple of ticks to register the other woman's response before she flicked on auto-pilot and scrabbled aft herself. She found Fahima gracefully slipping into a vacuum suit, which was no mean feat in zero gravity.

Sally snagged the smaller woman from mid-air, "What are you doing?"

"If we can't dock, we land and hike in," Fahima explained slowly.

Preventer Po pursed her lips, taking the measure of the woman in front of her, and promptly swallowed the terse refusal she'd been about to snap. Smiling, she grabbed a vacuum suit for herself, "That isn't exactly the desert out there."

"Sure it is," Fahima smirked back with her predatory grin. "There's just more bouncing involved."

Sally let herself laugh at her friend, "I can't order you to stay on the ship, can I?"

"I'll race you to Quatre," the small Arabian woman clamped on her helmet and let the smile drop to the snarl it had been hiding, "and God help anyone that gets in my way."

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Someone should have come after her long before she made it this far. Tristiana couldn't help feeling a little snubbed that no one had tried. She peeked through her grating in the ceiling of the banquet hall, her heart thundering in her ears and the comforting weight of the gun at her back. "Alright, Tristiana Helen Bloom- …Maxwell- whatever. Now what?"

Down in the room, things were quiet. Relena sat rigid in her corner with Mariemaia close at hand. Catherine was clinging to Quatrine with an instinctual fervor that was only bolstered by the four younger boys' in closed ranks about her. Trowa sprawled on the table was so still and pale that even the guards tried not to look at him.

Vasska breezed into the room again, "Miss Peacecraft, I do hope you've thought better of your earlier decision."

"I have nothing more to say to you, Mr. Vasska," the venom and resentment were so thick it made her voice husky, almost indistinguishable.

The man made a rolling motion with his wrist, as if to say then it couldn't be helped, "I'm afraid we'll be moving you to the lobby."

The men that had flanked Vasska swept around the Foreign Minister, who stood after a cool survey of the situation. She dismissed Mairemaia with a soft nod of her proud head, but the young woman didn't move.

"You may prefer to stay here, Miss Barton-Khushrenada," Vasska addressed her coolly.

Squaring her slight shoulders, the little redhead brought to bear her most courtly manner, "I would not. I will accompany Foreign Minister Dorlain."

Vasska seemed sincerely taken aback by the chivalric show of loyalty, noting that Relena seemed equally shocked. "Are you sure, Miss?"

A cavalier smile worthy of her late father blossomed on the woman's imperious countenance, "Quite, Viscount Vasska. Do not waste our time asking again."

Relena opened her mouth to argue until a strong, elegant hand alighted familiarly on her shoulder. In for a penny, in for a pound, even if they had to go through Hell and back. For the first time, Relena's head bowed as she smiled a silent thank you to her young supporter.

Vasska sighed, but signaled his men to allow it as they started off. Nearing the door, a small noise turned the man aside. He scanned the room quickly, settling on the wounded form of Trowa on the table. He was caught by calm emerald eyes. He let his men continue without him and drifted back to the table.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Bloom?" His voice was almost gentle, though he kept a little distance.

"Like I've been shot," Trowa deadpanned, his voice low, cool, and notably lacking the expected edge of strain. "Could I have some water?"

One of the four remaining guards leapt to his feet, but Vasska waved him off, picking up one of the mostly full water glasses from the diner table. Helping the tall man sit up a bit, he went to hand over the glass. The long fingered hand passed the glass, grasping throat. Briefly, he saw Catherine's two guards, clawing at paring knives buried to the handles in their hands, being savaged by feral young boys. The world spun and he was looking at the guards by the door, cool serrated metal pressed to his throat.

"Stay calm," Trowa instructed, though it was impossible to know to whom exactly. The noises from behind them had quieted, finally.

The two door guards exchanged glances behind their smgs, then one of them shugged, "It will save Charles the trouble later, I suppose. Not like we need the old geezer anymore."

The second smiled in agreement and they raised their weapons. Time slowed for Vasska as his veins turned to ice and his brain burst into flames, starring down the black holes hidden in gun barrels. He felt Trowa tense, though the knife didn't move he noted with some thanks. Catherine was trying to say something to the children. A vent grating burst from the ceiling and ricocheted off the floor. A girl dangled, fired, dropped, spun, landed, and fired. In the space of a breath. The guards fell, dead. She turned, violet eyes and gun smoke.

Then she hurled. Vasska hit the ground, hard, as Trowa bolted to her side folding her in protective arms and whispering comforts. He took the gun from her trembling, white knuckled grasp.

"Dad…" her voice was small, but clear and calm. "I'm okay. We need to go."

Tears stood in his green, green eyes as he touched his forehead to hers, "Settle a bit. It's alright." Silent tears started down her cheeks and he smiled, "It's alright."

Vasska watched the two huddled together, then noticed the steak knife on the floor where Trowa had dropped it. Careful, he shifted toward it.

"I wouldn't, Mister," Tahir smirked from atop the table. Triton had already scooped up the knife when he looked back. Tommy was rounding the end with Wahid, Quatrine and Catherine in tow. Little Quatrine came through the menacing cage the boys had formed around the prone man.

"Are you well, Mr. Vasska?" The little girl was all wide-eyed innocence.

Catherine jogged to her brother, "Trowa?"

He kissed the girl's forehead and she scrubbed her cheeks before they both stood. Trowa steadied her, even on one good leg, before turning to his sister, "We need to get the kids out of here."

"Getting to the others will be tricky on the ground," Tristiana sniffed, checking her bearings in the room. Two dead guards by the door, two unconscious guards bleeding behind the table. "I can get us to an empty break room, though."

Trowa nodded, but Catherine was watching the boys, "What about Vasska?"

The acrobat slung a protective arm across Tristiana's shoulders, leaning surprisingly little considering his wounded leg. Together they lithely went to regard the older gentleman trapped on the floor by menacing pre-teens.

"Well?" Vasska managed a little dignity, despite his current posture, but not much.

"You should probably come with us," Trowa's tone was the same, cool and low. The noble got the distinct impression he was being laughed at. "Your men want you dead, Vasska. Welcome to the wrong side of screwed."

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"And that should do it," Alex pulled the small device from the tangle of frayed wires in the wall and tossed it to Duo. A manic grin slipped across the ex-pilot's face as he hefted the little thing with fond familiarity before it disappeared into one of his pockets.

Checking their lookouts, the American surveyed the mess and crossed his arms. "Hey, Alexander."

"Call me Alex," the boy corrected with a dashing smirk as he patched wires.

His eyes flicked to the floor and a small, sad smile touched his lips for the barest second, "Right, Alex. I can handle this, why don't you tell them we're done?"

The boy hesitated. The man's face was sharp and open, but unreadable. Finally, he nodded, running off quickly to find Heero.

Duo dug in, finding and connecting the wires he wanted with a deftness that only repetition and reflex afford. Without a second thought, he stepped up to the speaker of the intercom, and pressed the button. A satisfying squeal and static echoed through the shambled hotel. He grinned, "Hello, Vasska. This is the incredibly large thorn in your side. The jammer's history and the Preventers are on their way, so let's make a deal. Let's say all of the partiers go safely, including Dorlain and Winner, right now and we'll give you better than what you're asking. We'll give you a Gundam pilot."

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_Come on now, who do you, who do you,_

_Who do you, who do you think you are,  
Ha ha ha bless your soul  
You really think you're in control_

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**A/N** – Made it! It was close, but it is still Monday. Anyway, things happening! Reviews are still lovely things. Take a few seconds to show some love.

**Peloponnese** – Hope this was a little more exciting for you.

**Next Chapter** - If They're Green Or They're Blue


	8. Ch08: If They're Green Or They're Blue

**In The Family**

Chapter 08

**If They're Green Or They're Blue**

By APs

Beta read by gothic-pixel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it…

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"What the hell were you thinking!" Wufei spat, though he seemed more confounded than pissed. This was fine. This Duo could handle. Yelling, anger, confusion, even the betrayal mixed into Quatre's scornful glare. It was Heero's cold refusal to react, at all, that was giving him trouble. He had expected hell when the Japanese man had pulled him from the intercom, but instead he'd silently been coerced back to the locker room, barely escaping frostbite from an icy glare on the way.

Once they'd gotten back and realized Tristiana hadn't, the boys were immediately sent to find her. Thusly, had Duo Maxwell found himself alone in a room with three very angry ex-terrorists.

He shrugged and let a lazy grin wash across his face, "I was thinking that getting all of you out of this safely was worth sacrificing one person."

"You being that person," Quatre seethed, not even able to actually look at him.

"Well, I wasn't planning on handing them you, Q," Duo was terribly aware that he was surrounded.

"I'll go," the Heero statue behind him mumbled in a perfect monotone, almost snapping Duo's far too tightly strung nerves.

Wufei pinched the bridge of his nose, "No, you won't. None of us can, we're all too tied together to not implicate the others."

"Exactly why I have to do it," Duo rationalized for them.

"No," Quatre finally met the American's eyes, burning with defiance, "There are other ways. I won't allow this."

"Quatre," Duo started hotly, then stopped. He dropped his gaze, running a hand through his cropped hair, "Let me do this."

The blonde shook his head, "No. We-"

"Damn it, Quatre," Duo shot forward and grabbed the taller man's shoulders, "Listen to me! Let them have their pound of flesh! They can't do any worse to me and you can use their brutality to stop them."

Strong arms tore him from a horrified Quatre and back against a firm body, Wufei was growling in his ear, "Don't be an idiot."

Duo shook with strain, closing his eyes as he pleaded, "Please. I've given so much, just please let me give what little I have left. If not for you, then for those who love you. For the children- For _my_ children."

"You _abandoned_ them." Duo's eyes flew open, wide as when he had been fifteen and absolutely stunned. He felt Wufei's grip slacken in surprise. Quatre was freshly mortified. Heero continued anyway, unrelenting and harsh, "They needed you. You left them at a hospital. You ran."

Duo couldn't turn, couldn't look, couldn't breathe, or think. He wavered on his feet and had to lean back against Wufei's chest for support. He struggled with the lump in his throat, trying to speak, to explain that it was better that way.

Heero would have none of it. He stalked up to the American, "I will not let you do it again. I won't let you hurt those that love you again."

It was punctuated with one of those poignant looks and Duo blinked in sudden, stupefying realization. "You-" he started, but the pain he now recognized in Heero's eyes was enough to bring him up short. He blushed, "I- I didn't know."

"Of course not," Heero droned, backing up a step and sliding his gaze away, "You left."

Any reply Duo might have made was cut off by echoing static from the intercom, "Mr. Thorn, or should we call you Preventer Zero Five… This is the Orphanhood. Viscount Vasska is no longer with us. Our apologies. We are monitoring all long range transmissions, so we know you were bluffing about the Preventers. Thank you for disabling the jammer, though, or else we never would have caught Mrs. Winner. If you don't wish harm to any of our hostages, we suggest you bring your 'Gundam pilot' and Mr. Winner to the lobby within the next hour. We may just let the rest of you go. And just so you know _we _are not bluffing…" the static crackled roughly before light panting emerged from the chaos.

"Quatre, darling," the voice tested, undeniably female, "If you, or any of your fool friends, even _think_ about surrendering to these _swine_, I will kill you myself!" Undeniably Fahima. There was a scuffle over the intercom before it went dead again.

The complete lack of sound that followed could only be outdone by space itself. All eyes settled on Quatre. The blond was paler than white, but he squared his shoulders, smoothed his goatee, and licked his lips, "Well, you heard the woman. We have less than an hour. Let's get to work."

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"Despicable," Vasska gusted once the intercom had once again quieted. The adults were seated at a round table in the middle of the break room to which Tristiana had led them.

Quatrine, who stood close to him, flanked by her brothers, smiled at him, "What is, Mr. Vasska?"

He frowned at the unnerving girl, with her gentle, knowing eyes and placid smile, "That they would harm your mother, young Miss Winner."

"You wouldn't?" Trowa's tone was so flat that one couldn't have called the phrase a question really.

"No," Vasska shot back sheer ice, but relaxed when he noticed the boys looming a step closer, "I only wish to see justice done. Revenge rights no wrongs."

"You lost your family, Mr. Vasska?" The entire room was stunned by Quatrine's simple jump in logic.

The noble was too shocked to remember to be bitter, "Yes. They were murdered during the war. A fate I wish on no man."

"Perhaps you should have screened your hired help a little better," Catherine huffed as she re-wrapped Trowa's soaking bandages.

"We were all volunteers," Vasska asserted, head high.

"Mercenaries can always find someone willing to pay them to kill someone else," Trowa advised without a glance at the other man.

"I didn't hire mercenaries," Vasska countered.

Trowa reloaded his hand gun, "Someone did. There are plenty of targets: Quatre, Relena, you. All they had to do was volunteer."

"You don't know that, you're just a clown!" Vasska stood, even now a commanding figure. It was Trowa's laugh that kept the boys at bay and pushed Vasska back to his seat. The noble regarded the tall man closely for the first time, "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Trowa's smile faded quickly, "Not I, Vasska."

"That wasn't Uncle Wufei's voice," Tristiana spoke before she realized she was saying anything. Violet eyes met deep questioning green. "Mr. Thorn. The Orphanhood assumed it was Uncle Wufei, but that wasn't him speaking."

Trowa nodded, still unsure where this was headed.

Tristiana swallowed hard, "We know about Hilde."

Catherine gasped. Vasska, much like little Quatrine, knew when to be quiet. The boys were too confused by now to act. Trowa raised an eyebrow.

"And Duo," she waited.

"And?" For the first time, his voice shook slightly.

"I don't know," the young woman admitted, looking away first. Thinking about the sharp, guarded man she now knew to be her father made her shiver. "Is it true?"

All he had to say was 'no' and she'd believe him, even if it was a lie. They both knew it. Trowa closed his eyes, "Yes."

It was Tristiana's turn to nod, "Did he pilot a Gundam?"

Vasska drew in a sharp breath, but Tristiana shot him a glare and his words died on his lips in a memory of violet and gun smoke.

"Finally! Tris!" a voice sounded from the ceiling. The grating swung in, letting Alex and Deucalion float to the ground. Tristiana had them in a hug before they landed.

"Deuce! Alex!" Triton went high, leaping into Alexander's arms. Tommy went low, barreling into Deucalion's stomach. The Winner children waited, no less pleased, but mindful of company and their prisoner.

"You!" Alex gasped when he saw Vasska seated at the table.

The older man gave a small incline of the head, "Young Mr. Dorlain."

Deucalion looked from his brother to the man to little Quatrine who daintily cleared her throat, "Mr. Vasska is our prisoner. His men tried to kill him."

Alex moved himself between the twins and the man, "You should have let them."

"Alex!" Catherine berated sharply, but the boy was glaring holes in Vasska.

Deucalion made his way over to the Winner children, eyeing the prisoner, then Tahir, "Have you been taking good care of everyone, little man?"

The boy smirked with pride, one of his mother's rapacious grins, "Of course."

"He's been marvelously courageous, Deuce," Quatrine added in all seriousness.

"I was brave, too," Wahid mumbled into his chest.

Deucalion smiled, ruffled Wahid's hair and gathered all three into a hug, keeping one eye on Vasska all the while.

"The others?" Trowa finally spoke once things quieted down.

Deucalion tucked a few stray strands of hair behind his ear, "Father and Wufei were tearing into- Mr. Maxwell when we left to find Tris."

Trowa's eyebrow rose, "And Heero?"

Deucalion glanced uneasily at Alex, who answered for him, "He wasn't talking."

Trowa looked away, but accepted it with a nod.

"They have mother," Wahid whispered at Deucalion's side, "They're going to hurt her."

"No they're not," Deucalion smiled down at him, "we're not going to let them."

Catherine smiled at them, too, "And your mother is with Aunt Relena and Mariemaia. If any group of women can handle themselves, it's them."

Catherine and Trowa shared a chuckle with the children. Tristiana didn't laugh, nor did Alex and the two of them shared a disturbing little feeling of dread that had wrapped about their stomachs.

"How's the leg, Uncle Trowa?" Deucalion ignored the feeling of uncertainty his siblings were leveling at him for the sakes of his adoptive family, "Think you can move?"

"Probably," Trowa admitted calmly. "Where does Quatre want me?"

The question caught both boys off guard and they started to blush furiously. Tristiana sighed, "You didn't even wait to hear the plan?"

"We didn't know that we'd find all of you like this," Deuce defended himself weakly.

Alex shrugged, "A fight that size brewing, you would have run too."

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One of the myriad burly, armed men shoved Fahima back against the base of the fountain in the middle of the lobby where the other two hostages sat waiting. Slowly, she righted herself beside Relena, who was watching her with that concerned face she only used when she felt guilty.

"Only my pride, Relena," the Arabian woman reassured her friend. The smile made her face hurt where bruises were undoubtedly forming.

Mariemaia snorted, "That's the one part of you we're not worried about."

"You shouldn't provoke them like that, Fahima," Relena whispered, her eyes brimming with fear.

"And let them focus on you, or use me to get at my husband?" A fire burned deep in dark eyes as the small predator surveyed the room full of unsteady amateurs and cocksure mercenaries, who paid the little women no mind, "Oh, I think not."

"You have a plan?" Mariemaia hissed across Relena.

"Not quite," Fahima admitted, "But we have about forty five minutes before Quatre and the others try something."

"They wouldn't," Mariemaia protested.

Fahima rolled her eyes, "It's Quatre and the others. Of course they will."

Relena could do nothing but concede the point. The redhead ground her teeth even though she knew they were right, "Aren't you worried at all?"

Fahima slid her eyes closed and rested her head back against the fountain, "Not in the least. I will see my family soon and these idiots will pay for their crimes."

"You can't know that, Fahima," Mariemaia crossed her arms.

"But I do," Fahima bared her teeth in a Cheshire cat grin. "Have a little faith."

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"Alright, so we just need a way of getting someone to the hostages," Quatre frowned as they finished laying out their plans. It was nothing fancy, but why tango when a two-step would do the same thing. "I suppose I could surrender."

"We already have a volunteer," Heero reminded him.

Duo looked up to see all three of them eyeing him, "Oh, hell."

Wufei and Heero let a significant glance slide between them and the American felt a small pang of jealousy. Heero shifted his weight slightly, "Your idea."

"When I was figuring on dying, yeah. You stay the hell away from me, Heero Yuy," Duo warned as he hunched into a defensive stance.

Quatre was confused, "Everyone just calm-"

Wufei shot a palm strike into Duo's jaw so fast and just so that the American never even felt himself fall back into Heero's arms. A smirk traced across Wufei's placid face, "Never did get to try this."

"Wufei!" Quatre squawked as the other two were laying Duo out and cuffing his hands behind his back. "What do you think you're doing!"

"Handing him over unconscious is the better tactic. He will be underestimated and unquestioned. He understands that," Heero explained as he tucked one or two things into Duo's clothes.

Quatre raised an eyebrow, "Was this a common practice?"

"I'd seen it once or twice," Wufei admitted.

"He's going to raise holy hell when he wakes up," Quatre sighed. Heero grunted, Wufei nodded, and the blonde got the distinct impression that that was also part of the intended effects of this particular tactical decision.

An awkward moment passed where the men had no more planning to do, but no one was willing to start a discussion. Wufei was watching Heero overcompensate, too obvious in his not fidgeting and not looking at Duo to effectively hide his desire to do either. Quatre seemed to notice the silence all of a sudden and drew a breath to break it.

"I'm going to prep and take position," Heero beat him to it. He slung an improvised pack they'd scavenged together onto his back, stalked to the vent, leapt, and was gone with a flex of liquid muscle and catlike grace. There had been no time for objections, questions, or farewells. Quatre sighed.

"Some things don't change," Wufei tried to sound comforting. He had figured out a while ago that Heero never said goodbye, especially not before something dangerous. Wufei found that respecting such customs cost nothing.

Quatre frowned, but tried to cover it by kneeling to check Duo's condition. His fingers lingered on the pale flesh of the man's neck as his eyes wandered over his face. The blonde almost didn't notice as his hand moved, tracing the familiar features that sleep smoothed until he could almost make out the edges of the person he'd once known so well. The hand drifted over the sheared and bleached hair, but curled closed rather than touch it, "He's different."

"It's still him," Wufei reminded him gruffly.

Quatre rose, "Yes and no. It's…" He didn't know how to explain exactly. There was a shifting, restless feeling about Duo ever since he'd reappeared. His ability to gage people seemed at a loss. Now that he thought about it, he'd only felt it once before. "It's like you… before Mariemaia."

Wufei felt himself stiffen a little, but seemed to agree, "He's unbalanced."

"I didn't mean-" Quatre back peddled, offended by the insinuation.

Wufei seemed equally affronted, waving away the dispute while searching for a clearer explanation, "No, he's… out of sync. He's fighting himself. Only a harmonious soul finds peace."

The Arabian man blinked and stroked his beard. He had never thought of it like that. Wufei was watching the gentle rise and fall of Duo's breath. Quatre wondered why the Preventer looked so odd, so young, with his hair up and no glasses. He wondered when he'd started taking the other man's calm strength and poet's soul for granted and whether he'd missed that note of sorrow growing, or if it had simply always been there. Just as the blonde was about to ask, Wufei's large eyes shot wide open and he let loose a barrage of curses as his left hand clasped over his ear.

"Wufei!" Quatre was by his side in a flash.

The Asian man's eyes were watering, but he thrust out a tiny earpiece toward his fellow ex-pilot, Preventer's issue communications device, "Sally. She's on my ship."

The blonde took it in bewilderment and started to put it to his ear, but he could hear Sally's voice through a hissing squeal inches away, "Zero Five! Dammit!"

"Sal- Water?" Quatre remembered to use codenames at the last second.

"Zero Four?" Sally came back, puzzled.

"Zero Five's here," Quatre placated her.

"Ask him who smashed his comm station," Sally's frustration managed to make the trip intact. Quatre looked to Wufei who indicated the American sprawled on the floor.

The Chinese man snatched the earpiece, apparently recovered enough to start giving directions, "Listen, sync the comms on beta settings to bypass the bad relay." Sally's voice shot something back and Wufei sighed, "No, you don't. Just patch through the hard systems."

Deucalion and Alex dropped back into the room and landed like puppies attempting to be wolves. They took their bearings gingerly and straightened after seeing Duo cuffed on the floor and Wufei ranting to himself off to the side.

Alex raised an eyebrow, "What'd we miss?"

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_So excuse me forgetting but these things I do  
You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue  
Anyway the thing is what I really mean  
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen_

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**A/N** – Let me know what you think, people. I just recently found the reply function for the reviews (yeah, I'm unobservant).

**Next Chapter** - Make Your Genetics Your B*tch


	9. Ch09: Make Your Genetics Your Btch

**In The Family**

Chapter 09

**Make Your Genetics Your B*tch**

By APs

Beta read by gothic-pixel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it…

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Quatre was crouched in position and waiting. From where he lurked, he had a passing fair view of the lobby with its twenty or so invaders and hostages. He could see where the others would emerge at the given times. He watched as the seconds ticked by, watched intently. Only when the presence behind him got within arms reach did he spin and drive it to the ground with a knee in the chest and a gun to the temple.

"Ow!" Deucalion tried to rasp, though there was no air to support it.

Quatre jumped off the boy, barely managing to keep his voice low, "What are you doing here?"

"Back up," the boy shrugged, getting to his feet.

Quatre frowned, "No, go protect the children."

"No," Deucalion countered, "You've already been shot. I'm not letting you do this alone, Father."

The blonde set his jaw, "I'm not your-"

The boy shook his head, "Family is family and you are my Father."

Quatre looked at the boy. Deucalion was dirty and bedraggled, his fine clothes rumpled and loose strands of hair framing his smirking face and deadly eyes. Yet, there in the midst of the fear and outrage, bright and warm to the core, was the simple logic of love. Suddenly, a weight lifted from Quatre's heart, which he'd never realized was there until it evaporated. All the father could do was smile and clap a hand to his son's cheek.

The son grinned, "Now that's cleared up, let's save Mother."

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Wufei entered the lobby from the entrance left of the sweeping staircase that had once led to the rooms, Duo slung over his left shoulder and right hand in the air. He swept the circular room quickly as he waited to be acknowledged, matching plan to reality. The fountain in the middle of the room was still going about its intricate water ballet above the heads of the three hostages. There were two guards per hostage. The main entrance leading to the hanger, opposite the grand staircase, was locked down and barricaded. Five men there. The staircase, the halls to the other two arms and the secured reception desk near the entrance were all ignored considering the nothing presumed to be behind them. The door to right of the staircase, the other end of the crescent shaped hallway leading to the banquet hall, ballroom and conference rooms, was guarded by three men. Wufei faced the same at his end.

It was one of the three sentries that ran to get the few men free to play cards on the lower steps of the now monumentally useless stairs. Of the five men that stalked over, four were obviously bodyguards. Wufei had plenty of time to decide that the big, brawny guy in the middle was the mercenary commander and that he had probably held rank in at least one army during the war. The Preventer was unimpressed.

"Preventer Zero Five," the commander barked from his chest. It made a lot of noise. "You're late."

Wufei regarded him passively, unable to even feign fear, "Fifty minutes is not an hour. I'm early."

"You're late if you wanted to make a deal," the brute smiled, balling a fist in a palm and flexing ropey forearm muscles. "Where's Winner?"

"I don't know. Your men may have already shot him," a miniscule upward tick of the lips went unnoticed by the men watching his eyes and hands.

The flash of malicious optimism that shot through the mercenary's eyes did nothing to endear him to Wufei, "Is that your 'Gundam pilot'?"

Wufei could never manage Trowa's masking blank, but cold indifference the heir of the massacred Long Clan had in spades. He slid Duo to the floor and yanked the man's head back by his chopped hair.

The commander's triumphant recognition of the boy he'd undoubtedly plastered to innumerable posters only served to lower the Preventer's opinion and raise his elegant eyebrows. "Punk looked better with the braid." Anger swelled in Wufei's chest and his glare narrowed, twin black holes. The thug snapped his thick fingers, "Charles."

A tall, wiry man stepped out of formation and motioned to his mate. The two men each hooked an arm under one of the prisoners', keeping a hand open to hold a weapon, and dragged him away. Wufei didn't allow his eyes to follow.

The animal in charge was smiling, "Now what to do with you?" The Preventer's only reply was a scornful stare as he was evaluated. Young for an agent, generally considered too young to have actually seen war, short, even if solid, and near effeminate in motion, he knew he wasn't intimidating. The sword hilt was just visible over his shoulder and the man's eyes lingered there, "Trust a pretty schoolboy to bring a knife to a shootout."

A haughty smirk slipped onto Wufei's face while a soft snort made its escape, "Who told you this was a shootout?"

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Duo was poised on the edge of oblivion for a breathless moment before drifting back into reality. First, everything was noise. The air was thick with moisture and the world beneath him was cold. Finally, his body started to complain, first about the awkward position he was heaped in when up and down reinstituted themselves, then about his sore chin, and finally about the metal biting into his wrists. _Motherfuckers_…

Now that the clamor was settling into words, he could make out Relena trying to whisper to someone. The woman had never really learned how to speak quietly. Even her whispers were orator crisp. By comparison, Mariemaia's velveteen murmurs blurred into obscurity while all he could distinguish of Fahima was a throaty growl. At a distance, he could make out Wufei's terse replies to a boisterous interrogator.

He groaned softly and stirred to announce his return to the world of the living. The women's discussion stopped abruptly and a small hand alighted on his shoulder, helping him sit slowly. The awkward motion masked him removing the cuffs nicely, but did nothing for his pride. Luckily, he'd abandoned that a while ago. Blinking, he took his bearings like anyone who'd just woken up handcuffed would.

"Steady," Fahima warned, keeping that hand on his shoulder. When he looked at her to banter back, he choked on it. Half of the dark woman's lovely face was darker still with bruising, one of her smoldering eyes nearly swollen shut, but one glance at those same eyes told him to ignore it.

"Are you alright?" That was Relena, all soft concern and hard indignation. Relena was downright majestic when pushed and she'd been pushed hard lately.

Duo wanted to be snarky, especially considering what he was planning to say to his fellow ex-pilots. He wanted it bad, but that wouldn't help the girls any, so he stuck to the script with a smile like a white flag, "Blind and deaf, Princess."

Apparently that was Heero bodyguard code and all of the women had been under his protection enough to understand it. Duo actually felt them all stiffen slightly in recognition. Fahima recovered first and started laughing quietly, the others joined in as though it had simply been an unexpected joke. Their guards glared at them. Fahima unleashed one of those fierce smiles that made her equal parts lovely and menacing.

That's when the lights went out. The count started. A door opened, the main entrance, and something whistled overhead. Eyes closed and ears covered, blind and deaf, the flash bangs sounded off. The darkness screamed, panicked, and groaned in sudden terror. Duo wasted no time shoving the hostages around the fountain's curve as he slid a hand to a lump tucked into his belt. Panic fire was starting. Groans and cries filled the strobing shadows. He popped the top and tossed something into the invisibly churning water. Two super-condensed industrial cleaners mixed at ratios which were a testament to his faith in Heero's math. He breathed a quick prayer, anyway.

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Once it went dark, they had two minutes before auxiliary systems reacted. Seconds ticked through Trowa's head as he waited, Tristiana's warm hand clenching his with reassuring strength. Cacophony hit Trowa like a solid thing when someone, Wufei, opened the door behind reception. Fire alarms were sounding a shrill beat to chaos' melody. He shifted Tristiana's hand to the Preventer's grip and Wufei started back into the lobby. Trowa trailed a hand, counting each person as they passed hand in hand, Tristiana, Wahid, Tahir, Quatrine, Vasska, Catherine, Tommy, Triton, and Alex.

The second the boy cleared the door, Trowa smashed the hallway fire alarm and leapt past the door. He rolled to his feet, pain flared, he staggered, but stayed silent. Backup half lights rose gently, laying the field bare. All the untrained men were writhing on the ground, either thrashing or frozen. Of the trained men, seven were still standing. A few were busy with sword wounds. Their commander was gutted. The fountain was belching yellow wisps that shrouded the floor in thick fog. Sally was providing cover fire from the remains of the barricade, Trowa from reception. Everyone was converging as the mercenaries floundered.

Fahima had taken the lead while Duo brought up the rear. She moved like a professional, low and fast. Duo had met her briefly during the war while in the Maquanac village with Quatre and he would always think of her as a desert flower. Then she had only just been blossoming, but no less tenacious or vibrant in adversity.

She weaved, serpentine, through lobby furniture. A tigress in her jungle would have moved with less efficiency. Mariemaia stayed at Relena's side, keeping the Foreign Minister's head down. In the midst of bedlam, no one was paying them any special mind. They moved fast, but swirling mist was already shrouding the floor. The final stretch to the hangar was open ground and Fahima waited for Sally to reload.

Cover fire sang out and they ran. Relena fought the desire to squeeze her eyes shut, but still managed to zig when she should have zagged. A hand clenched about her ankle and the world vanished in churning clouds and screaming. Mariemaia dove after her charge to find a gasping invader latched to her. The crack of a punch, a kick snapped to a face, and the man slackened into a bloodied lump. Relena was hacking and wretching, her limbs on strike. Lungs and eyes burned as Mariemaia fought not to inhale. The mist was decidedly not good. The redhead hauled Relena up, what she thought was up… and broke surface as rough hands made a grab for her.

"Move it, squirt," Duo winked at her as she panted, supporting a wilted Relena. The redhead quirked a smile at the annoying nickname she hadn't realized she'd missed. Fahima had turned back and gave the attacker a kick for good measure as Mariemaia helped Relena retreat the last few steps. Duo caught a smirk on Fahima as they followed, but her quip died as her predatory eyes fixed behind him, her sleek form already in motion. A jumble of limbs, they hit the floor as the barricade was shredded by lead.

"Mother!" Fahima heard her daughter shriek.

"No!" Catherine gave a small cry of pain.

"Quatrine!" her husband screamed. Another burst of gunfire followed by a sick, heavy thud…

Atop Duo, Fahima couldn't breathe and it had nothing to do with the vapors.

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Heero registered roared profanity as his early cue. Something had gone wrong. He registered everything from bird's eye safety, mercenaries too involved to look up. A dark blur was charging a lanky man near the fountain as he took careful aim through disorientation and surprise. Heero kicked through the grating and out of the vent in one motion. Midair, he squeezed off three rounds back skyward, into his rigged air ducts. The lobby shook with concussion and the ceiling erupted into flames. Heero grunted, landing harder than he'd thought. The remaining mercenaries flinched.

Fahima howled with the explosion, welcoming the heat and destruction. Charles tried to raise his weapon on pure reflex, but Quatre was there first, wrenching the smg from him as his wife landed her first blow. Charles staggered, blocked a high blow, but missed the one that shattered his knee. He tried to sink below the gas, but Fahima wasn't done, all gnashing teeth, bloodied knuckles, streaming eyes, and anguished sobs.

The few enemies left fired halfheartedly, weighing the brutal beating the woman was administering against the dangerous snarls of her friends. They crouched behind cover as smoke billowed downward and mist climbed. Trowa was pushing the rest of the broken chain toward the hangar, staggering and glancing stern orders to Tristiana, who barked at the others. The twins were dragging a hysterical Catherine behind the barricade. Alex was dragging Tahir and Wahid. Heero swooped in deftly under Trowa's arm and supported the man as they retreated, arms wrapped tightly about each other.

Quatre clung to his wife, trying to restrain her once the man was down. She threw him off and plummeted into oblivion. Charles' face was melting, blow by blow, but the world was starting to swim. The pain in Fahima's chest was suddenly very physical. Quatre appeared a pale specter in the haze before her tear distorted eyes. His hands clutched her shoulders, her tunneling vision burst wide as their lips met, parted, and his air flowed into her lungs. They were back on their feet, but she couldn't let go.

"God!" Deucalion's voice soared in the sudden quiet from where he'd been searching the ground frantically. His parents spun and gasped. A figure breached the roiling surface of the mists, slowly lurching toward the hangar. It was hunched forward, guarding a tiny limp figure and dripping crimson steadily into the fog.

Vasska stumbled, fell against Deucalion, hacking up blood, "Take her."

The boy seized his little sister and bolted for help as the noble started to fall. Quatre and Fahima caught him, dragging him the rest of the way. Doors closed on fire and smoke and gas and shouts leaving behind a disorienting void, rather than silence.

Sally rushed toward Vasska, falling to his side even as Fahima and Quatre began to protest. The Preventer slammed down the med kit, "Quatrine's fine! Gas knocked her out, but this man took the bullet, the blood's all his!"

Protests stopped. Fahima eyed the prone man with new purpose, "How do we help?"

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Relena felt herself coming back slowly. The boys had tackled Mariemaia, Deucalion, Alex, Tristiana, and Quatre on sight and the noise fully doubled when Quatrine had asked her first groggy question. Relena was left alone to recover from exposure to the gas, though they always gave the Foreign Minister a respectful berth when it came to roughhousing. Sally, Fahima, and Wufei were busy tending Vasska. Heero was seeing to Trowa. The Foreign Minister found herself recovering alone.

"You alright?" Duo's voice was gruff and calm.

She couldn't help smiling, "Wasn't that the first thing you ever said to me?"

"Close enough," he sighed, "Why am I always the bad guy?"

"You're not," Relena said softly, turning to face him. "If anything, this is my fault."

Duo felt his hackles rise, the burden was his and it didn't rest easy on other shoulders. He had never felt comfortable around Relena, she never needed him the way he expected, but seemed to consider him important anyway. He changed the subject, "Where's Heero?"

She blinked vaguely at the question before a small knowing smile and a blush colored her face. Clearing her throat, she grabbed his shirtsleeve, guided him a few feet to the side and pointed. There, just behind a shuttle and out of view, were Trowa and Heero wrapped in each other's arms. Heero's hands tangled in Trowa's hair, forcing the taller man's bowed head down to his own while Trowa held his hips, leaning into the kiss for support. He was favoring his neatly bandaged leg.

"When-" Duo choked. He knew when; there had been fourteen years of when. Finally he managed to suck breath and keep his voice down, "How does _that_ work?"

Relena was smirking at the oblivious couple, "Quietly, I'd imagine."

"But he said- I thought- You…" Duo couldn't complete a thought as they beat a retreat before being noticed.

Relena chuckled, "Oh, we tried. After you left. My adopting Alex meant he had to be close, so we ended up trying pretty adamantly for a while." Duo's face went dark, but the woman kept talking, "He and Wufei ran after you, tried to drag you back by your braid, as they put it. Anyway, it took years for Heero to sort out what he really wanted."

"And that's it, huh?" Duo was amazed.

The woman stopped, fixing him with an exasperated look, "He wanted you."

He actually backed away, "Deserves better. You all do."

"Stop that," she pouted angrily. "I will not listen to you degrade yourself. You and I were the first people to reach out to Heero. I needed him, you welcomed him, and he didn't know how to deal with either of us. He left and it was you and I that brought him back. You broke his heart and he didn't even know it until years later."

Duo didn't know what to feel, let alone say, think, or do. He stood opposite one of the most powerful women in the world completely blindsided and absently wondered if this was how her political opponents felt on a regular basis.

Seeing him start to panic, she relented, "It's _not_ your fault. You couldn't have known considering he didn't. It just took so much longer without you."

Duo blinked, "What did?"

"Seeing him happy," she smiled.

Duo dropped his gaze, trying to hide the bitterness lurking there. Heero was happy, without him. He plastered a grin firmly to his face, "What about you, Princess?"

"I'll always be a friend," she tilted her chin up, her eyes half lidded with a suggestive smirk, "and it's not like I can't find men."

He laughed, almost like he used to, "You've got a whole world full."

Her smile warmed, not fooled in the least, "You should really talk to him."

Duo rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. Alex ran up to them before the topic could develop, though.

"Mom!" He launched himself into Relena's arms, "I'm so sorry! I didn't want any of this!"

"Sh," she cooed as he cried into her blouse, "I know. It's okay."

"No it's not," he stepped back, looking at both of them tears flowing.

"You did good in the end, kid, and that's what matters," Duo smiled, wiping the boy's face. Blood smeared across Alex's cheek and Duo paled. Words failed him as he searched the boy for unattended wounds.

Alex submitted in confusion, but grabbed Duo's wrist, "It's your hand, Dad."

Duo stopped, paling more, "What?"

Relena's breath caught, but Alex was just more befuddled, "Your hand's bleeding."

"No," Duo could barely whisper, "the other part."

Alex blushed, looking away with a shaky smile, "Can I call you Dad?"

Relena covered her mouth and nose. Duo's eyes brimmed, "Yeah, of course."

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Vasska came around to agony. It hurt to breath, hurt to move, hurt to stay still, it just hurt. A groan escaped him and one of the ghosts hovering over him told him to stay still. There were drugs. A pinch in his arm told him as such. He fought the darkness back, but strong arms were holding him down and he couldn't fight _them_. A woman was bent to her work, operating somewhere on his body he couldn't rightly feel. Another woman was assisting and he felt her dark eyes cutting keenly into him.

Vasska coughed up his voice, "How is she?"

"Who?" the dark man asked.

The wounded man made a face, "The girl."

One of the women, the girl's mother, froze. The other continued working, "She's fine."

"Good," he managed with a little gurgling.

The mother leaned close and kissed his cheek, "Thank you."

Vasska smiled bitterly, "No one should bury their child."

She kissed his forehead, then withdrew quickly. Noise and wind heralded a shuttle docking and she smiled through a veil of tears. The second the small craft touched down, the door burst open pouring forth row upon row of Maquanacs. Fahima jogged to them just as Rashid appeared and she crashed into him.

"Papa!" Her voice sounded odd as she both cried and laughed.

Large arms draped her, bringing security on the warm scent of desert sand, "We're here, Fahima." Rashid frowned at her as she wiped happy tears away and then the rest of the hangar, "Though I feel we are here late."

"You are, old friend," Quatre explained, balancing Wahid on his shoulders, Quatrine in his arms, and flanked by Deucalion and Tahir. "I promise we would have waited if we had known you were coming."

"You guys took out the entire partisan group already?" Auda groused.

Tahir leapt forward, posing triumphantly while Wahid mimicked him, "You bet! You should have seen us! Even Mother beat that one man soundly when we thought he'd shot Quatrine."

"Grandfather," little Quatrine yawned, snuggling into her father's arms, "I'm fine. Please don't look so pale." Rashid couldn't help a small smile.

Deucalion was considering the men carefully, "Not that it isn't wonderful to see you, but how exactly did you know to come?"

"How indeed," Quatre sighed, watching his wife duck her head and blush.

Fahima pounced on her husband, forcing all the fear and desperation and crippling uncertainty she'd felt since the second this had begun into one savage kiss. The Maquanacs hooted, the boys cringed, Deuce and Quatrine smiled. Fahima nearly wept with release. She broke away leaving Quatre gasping for breath, and smirked, "I called them. Please don't be mad."

Quatre couldn't be mad, wasn't mad. Fahima beamed, melting to Quatre's arms and holding her daughter in utter contentment, all but purring. He smiled at Rashid and Rashid shrugged. The man had warned him about tigers.

"Auda will pilot you back to L4," Rashid offered, "We will handle the rest."

Fahima stiffened, "I need to call ahead and warn the staff."

"What?" Quatre chuckled.

"Well, we can't just throw a birthday party for my eldest and his friends without the slightest warning," the woman smirked, "That would be rude."

Quatre's smile fell, "Fahima… he knows."

"I should hope so, we celebrate every year," Fahima laughed. She turned to her father and the others, "You're all welcome back to the house, of course."

"No," Quatre forced himself to clarify, "He knows about the Maxwells."

Fahima blinked towards Deucalion, who nodded with the strangest little grin. She laughed again, "Good. Now perhaps you two can have a civil discussion without your guilt and secrets starting a fight. I swear you are the only person that could ever find guilt in adopting a child, love."

Quatre choked, but his wife kissed him soundly until the ground was securely back under his feet.

"Does that mean Deuce isn't our brother?" Wahid whispered to Tahir.

Tahir looked lost, but Quatrine snorted, "Of course he's our brother."

"Of course I am," Deucalion echoed, catching both younger brothers by the neck.

"It takes a village to raise a child," Rashid told Quatre sagely.

Deuce smiled, "I, for one, don't care if my village is a little stranger than most."

"Yes, well, our village can't stay here, considering how badly we've wrecked the place," Fahima attempted to re-rail the poor conversation.

Rashid frowned while Quatre blushed. Une wouldn't let him pay for this, but a hefty donation to Preventers was bound to cover it. The business man cleared his throat, "Speaking of which, the intruders should probably be rescued soon. They should be compliant now, between the gas and the fire."

Rashid's face darkened, but several of the Maquanacs behind him lit up at the prospect of handling the terrorists.

"Be gentle," Fahima insisted, "They were more incompetent than dangerous."

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_Everybody, Everybody_

_Make Your Genetics Your B*tch_

_Testify!_

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A/N – One more chapter! If anyone is interested I can list the songs the chapter titles came from at the end of next chapter. Heartfelt thanks to everyone who's still reading and reviewing! All reviews are lovely. It's the only way I get to know what you're thinking.

Next Chapter – Your Prison Is Walking


	10. Ch10: Your Prison Is Walking

**In The Family**

Chapter 10

**Your Prison Is Walking**

By APs

Beta read by gothic-pixel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it…

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Waiting… They'd gotten word to sit pretty until the Preventers could make the scene and take the situation in hand. Sally went to retrieve Fahima's shuttle with Wufei. Little Quatrine was sitting with Vasska and watching the game the Maquanacs had organized. Quatre and Relena were plotting in a corner. Heero caught Duo's eye from clear across the room, turned, and paced into Relena's personal shuttle. The summons was about as subtle as a brick to the head, but Duo found himself following his feet toward the shuttle without complaint. This had been hanging over his head for so long that the actual doing didn't seem so bad. He wasn't ready, per say, but he was more than fed up with the waiting.

He found the other man in the cockpit, triple checking prelaunch procedures. Duo poised himself in the doorway, noncommittal, "So…"

"I'm glad you came back," Heero kept working, kept his voice neutral.

"Hadn't planned to," Duo admitted.

Heero flinched, missing a step in the routine he was using for cover, "Still."

He hadn't expected this indirectness. It wasn't like Heero. It wasn't like the Heero he'd known, he amended quickly. Duo nodded, "Can't say I see why."

The bodyguard gave up the work, settling back into the pilot's chair, eyes forward, "Remember the Mariemaia incident?"

"Of course," Duo grunted, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

"Returning had not been my plan before it."

Duo blinked at the man's back. They'd seen Heero only once during that year for a similar incident and he'd silently sent them Zero, but it hadn't occurred to anyone that he may have had plans that didn't include them. Duo had spent the year getting his proverbial shit together. Had taken it for granted the others had, too. The idea that any of their 'shit' had not included staying in touch had utterly escaped him. "Why not?"

"Alone was better than unwanted," Heero stated flatly.

Duo searched the floor, giving his jaw a scratch, "Stupid, 'Ro."

Heero's reflection in the forward screen smirked, "Yeah. Figured that out when you forced me to be your best man."

"Only way to be sure you'd stay," Duo shrugged. The desperate struggle and imminent death had spurred Duo to cling to the life he'd scraped together. Hilde had been furious when he'd proposed over an open channel. She thought he'd been trying to dodge a shotgun, wasn't prepared for how genuinely ecstatic he'd been to find out she was pregnant. He and Quatre had lost no time shanghaiing their fellow ex-pilots into the wedding party. Howard had given away the bride and the others had been billed as brothers of the groom. It had been at the reception when confronted about it that Duo had expressed his wish for them to be part of his children's lives. Godparents. Family.

Their reflections locked eyes. They were thinking the same thing. It came down to one question. If Heero had loved Duo, even if he'd been confused, why hadn't _he_ taken Alex? Heero had been Duo's closest friend. Heero was Alex's Godfather. Before he answered, the man closed his eyes like he was stepping in front of a firing squad, "I had no right."

And Duo understood what this was. It was surrender. Heero had cornered himself, left everything in Duo's hands. He knew coming head on would only make things worse, warrant an attack, so Heero gave up, made sure the only place to stab him was in the back. It was an immense show of trust, the likes of which Duo had never seen. A touch awkwardly excessive, like a puppy overcompensating for paws it hasn't grown into yet, but not unappreciated. Duo narrowed sharp eyes and repeated himself, "Stupid, 'Ro."

Heero turned in the pilot's chair, casting carefully blank eyes back. He stood, stalking to the door with silent footfalls and unreadable eyes. With an hesitant, almost shy, boldness, he trapped the other man, leaning close enough to feel the warmth radiating from pale skin. Lips parted, breathe mingling in the space between as hands ghosted over bare skin, raising gooseflesh from the electricity of near contact.

Where flesh never met, eyes never parted. The masks slipped silently away and neither could hide from the other anymore. They shared a raw moment of guilt and pain and fear and loneliness and anger. They compared martyr complexes and survivor's guilt. Neither could ask for forgiveness, neither felt they deserved it. Duo had to choke out a laugh. Heero grinned through a blush. Friends, that's all they came down to.

"So," Duo started again, "Trowa?"

Heero blushed several shades darker, "We're… good for each other. He understands."

"How's that working for you?" Duo's brows rose, suggestive.

"Quietly," Heero frowned. Duo blinked, then laughed so hard he almost thought he'd drawn his last breath. Heero was worried, "We've been keeping it secret for years."

Years. Duo's smile waned, suddenly out of place and unnecessary, "Secret, of course. Come on, let's get back."

Heero nodded through poorly hid confusion. Duo threw an arm around his shoulders and, despite a lack of chatter, found it comfortably familiar. They ran into Trowa as soon as they left the shuttle, as though he had been waiting. Couldn't prove it, but that's what it seemed like. Duo became suddenly very aware of his breach of personal space and removed his arm, his lips burning with the unrealized kiss. Heero gave him a look, but Duo was occupied with Trowa whose cool emerald eyes were on him.

The tall man had been listening to his daughter, "…figured then that I could just keep on with you an Aunt Cathy, until the boys were ready, so I could take some repair classes." She stopped, following the shift in her father's attention. Though the girl had a distinctly paternal leaning in appearance, Duo couldn't deny Hilde in the small, knowing smile she managed for him. It was a tiny, fond thing that made Duo's heart wrench and soar at the same time. She already had two dads, what was one more. Then, she shrugged at the three of them and left them to it.

Duo had never been particularly close to Trowa. Actually, between his undercover work and amnesia, Duo had never really gotten a handle on the person behind the mask. Add to that the fact that Trowa wasn't this guy's name and his destroying Deathscythe and it was simple to see why he'd kept some distance between them. The others all trusted the guy implicitly, so Duo had never hesitated to put his life in his hands and he'd never been let down. Being caught hanging on the guy's boyfriend, his lover, whose heart Duo had broken at one point, however, was a horse of a completely freaking different spectrum altogether.

Duo stood his ground, ready for a fight, as Trowa watched him, steady and unreadable as ever. Trowa took in his hair, malnourished limbs, defensive posture, every scar and wrinkle. When he did move, it was slow and deliberate; the way you'd approach a dangerous animal, all respect and implacable calm. He draped the smaller man in his arms, cradling, but not trapping, never possessive. His rich voice was clear and strong, without a trace of either rebuke or pity. He simply said, "Thank you."

Duo stared straight ahead, wide eyed and blinking. Out of all the others, Trowa got it. The sacrifices, the pain and hardships, the good and evil, he accepted them as gifts or necessity and was grateful for what was left of him, asking nothing more. Trowa was simply, and without reservation, there for him, his brother. Duo had to chuckle through the stinging of his eyes as he conceded this one to Heero, the man really did understand.

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Une disembarked on the moon with all the humor of a wet cat and the force of a storm front, distant thunder and all. She was flanked by agents, crisp and shiny, and met on the deck by Sally and Wufei, haggard and blood spattered. Mariemaia was third in line, resigned to waiting for her turn to be acknowledged. To everyone's surprise, Une passed the agents with the briefest of cursory glances and stood in front of the redhead, appraising her narrowly.

"You appear to be in one piece," the Director noted, her brow smoothing ever so slightly.

Mariemaia gaped at the woman before one of her father's smiles graced her with its roguish warmth, "You shouldn't worry so much, Lady."

A small, warning smirk touched the Director's lips, but she spoke to the fresh troops behind her, "Secure the prisoners and play nice."

The field agents saluted with poorly disguised amusement. The government had never actually recognized the Maquanac Corps as the autonomous power it was, but Preventers technically didn't exist either, so they kept things cordial when they met, or didn't meet depending on your clearance level. Mythological desert warriors and fictitious government agencies had blurry jurisdictions, at best.

With her rookies preoccupied, the Director looked expectantly to her veterans. Wufei and Sally always met her gaze easily, a trait she was learning to value more every year. Her eyes slipped to linger on the blood, "Show me to him."

Sally nodded and they moved out in more of a nebulous cluster than rank and file. The brief Sally had microburst to the Director had been concise, but complete, making questions unnecessary. Their movement didn't go unnoticed, though. The Winners with Rashid in tow, the other three pilots, and the Foreign Minister were closing in on the little knot as they reached their target. Une stepped up to the wounded man, with the small girl beside him, and regarded him coolly.

"Hello, Miss Une," little Quatrine welcomed demurely.

Une nodded to her, "Hello, Miss Winner. Hello, Vasska."

"I'd like to say it's good to see you, Representative Une," the prone man managed, gurgling, "No, it's Director Une now, right. Hard to keep track, really."

"You know this man?" Quatre's question had the trappings of a threat without being aggressive. There were few people the head of a covert organization would allow to make threats and live. It just so happened that most of them were in this particular hangar at the moment and they knew it.

"Nicholai Vasska was my primary pilot and bodyguard for the colonial tour I took under OZ's banner. A true believer in protective unification," Une was watching the man's labored breathing, "He was instrumental in my return to Earth." Every adult knew what Une meant, had been there when she'd been proclaimed dead and smuggled back to terra firma by a few loyal men when Barge had foundered.

Vasska barked a wet laugh, "And I returned to a murdered family, dead for months. Asshole father and brother… pregnant wife, and son," he turned his head to smile sadly at Quatrine, "Damir was two, would have been twenty this year."

Fahima knelt at the man's side, clutching her daughter to her chest and taking hold of his hand. Looks were being shuffled around, but nothing was being confirmed or denied. It could have been any of several missions, completely plausible.

Une nodded, "Sally, move Mr. Vasska into our medical bay."

Fahima shot a dangerous glance the director's way, "If I may, we owe this man a sizable debt, Miss Une. I can't allow you to take him should you intend harm."

The Director carefully assessed her position. Both Rashid and Quatre had the stubborn look of well reasoned decisiveness backing their stances and the other pilots would always back up one of their own over her. She smiled, "Mrs. Winner, I assure you my debt to this man is not small by any means. I plan to keep an eye on him. I could use a good pilot."

Vasska was trying to comprehend through a haze of drugs and pain, "I… Don't do me any favors. My argument will at least be heard at my trial."

There were quite a few smirks and several laughs with a couple derisive snorts thrown in for flavor. Duo managed to keep his bitterness out of his voice, "There's not going to be any trial."

"What?" Vasska was looking around now, despite hands trying to hold him still.

"Zero-Two is right," Une explained, "We can't allow this to leak to the public. Zero-Four closed the hotel for 'renovations' and it will reopen on time, in better condition. Your men will be either charged with previous crimes, or set free accordingly."

The Director attached an interesting amount of meaning to simple codenames, forcing Vasska to spin his wheels a little harder. The noble really looked at Duo for the first time and his eyes bolted open. Things started to fall in neat little lines. Preventer Zero-Five, Winner's competence, and the Foreign Minister's school friend bodyguard. Even Trowa, not a terribly uncommon name, was too coincidental when added to all the facts. He stared in cold horror at the men, so young, but undeniably dangerous. Une eyed Vasska to make sure he understood the true nature of his blunder. He did.

"I'll go with the Director," Vasska yielded, extracting his hand from that of Mrs. Winner stiffly. "I only regret that this should all have been for nothing."

"Not quite," Relena finally spoke up. "You made your point rather deftly. We're working on something that should address the issue, once and for all." They figured a general amnesty was in order and if they got Senator Sylvia Noventa to introduce it, there was no chance of it failing. Calls had already been made. Scowling, Duo slipped from the group.

"We also discussed declassifying the OZ reports on the Gundam pilots," Quatre floated into the open waters.

Sally caught the drift, "Written with codenames."

The OZ files had enough information to satisfy many with the added twist of disclosing the youth of the pilots and many of the injuries they had suffered during various missions. OZ had fallen into disorder before anything substantial had become known of the pilots. An anonymous confession with a built in sympathy factor. Quatre nodded, "With permission, of course."

"Of course," Une consented, rolling a hand to show they'd work out the details later. The Director raised her eyebrows, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, actually," Relena smiled, "Once you've seen to your new pilot, would you consider joining us for a birthday party, Lady?"

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Duo sat curled in the pilot's seat of Wufei's small craft, brooding as he tapped out a staccato rhythm on the controls with the little jammer he had pocketed. The cockpit was dark, a small vector chart casting only an eerie luminosity that couldn't quite be called a glow.

"Going somewhere?" Wufei's voice nearly propelled him from the chair and onto the ceiling.

Duo growled to hide his surprise, "Maybe."

Wufei sat peaceably in the copilot's chair, "Where are we headed?"

"_We_ aren't headed anywhere," Duo corrected.

Wufei snorted, "You don't really suppose I'm just going to allow you to abscond with the shuttle that currently contains the lion's share of my worldly possessions, do you."

"Wha- I- Fuck, Wufei, I'm sorry," Duo stumbled, hanging his head.

Gritting his teeth, Duo foisted himself from the seat and went to leave, but Wufei caught his wrist, "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. Away…" His voice was gruff, but he didn't look back or pull his arm free.

"Simple enough," Wufei assented and started prepping for departure.

Duo turned on him, suspicion oozing, "What the hell are you doing?"

"There has never been a way to keep you where you did not wish to stay," Wufei pointed out, "It is for the moon to sway the tide, not still the Earth."

"Ha ha, asshole. Une ordered you to baby sit me?"

"No, your children did." There wasn't even an iota of mirth to be found in Wufei's manner, no matter how hard Duo looked. "And the others."

Duo coiled, disgust overcoming the other emotions boiling his brain, "I'm not threatening anything. I don't need a Preventers collar."

"I extended my vacation to a sabbatical, so it has nothing to do with Preventers." Wufei sighed, standing to be on even ground with the other man, "It was my idea. They were afraid you'd disappear again, so I offered to help."

"Help? Help!" Duo tore his wrist from Wufei's grip with his wild gesturing, "What _exactly_ did you plan to help me with? I leave and everything's fine. I come back and everything goes to pot. What part of that needs help?"

Wufei weathered the man's anger like so much wind, "It wasn't that bad."

"Bullshit!"

Onyx fire flared in Wufei's eyes and though he didn't raise his voice, his words fell like ten ton bricks, "Shut up and listen, Maxwell. What happened was the sum of our actions, _all_ of us. Taking this burden from us is neither right, nor just. If we allowed you to leave, not only would it weaken and pain us, but the shame of loosing you twice would be insufferable. After everything, do you really believe I could let you vanish alone?"

Brought up short, Duo found himself pushing back lamely out of habit, "Watch it, Chang. I still owe you two good slugs."

"One."

Duo started to spit a particularly scathing insult, but faltered, "What?"

"You only owe me one blow," Wufei explained calmly.

The American raised an eyebrow, "I definitely remember two distinct occasions."

"You deliberately provoked me the first time," Wufei reasoned, raising a finger, "Thus, it doesn't count."

Duo blinked at him, then laughed harshly, "Trust you to make a distinction."

A small smirk softened Wufei's severe features, but he said nothing. His inky hair was loose, falling over bare bronze shoulders since he'd discarded the Preventer's jacket. Duo watched the man watch him as he moved to lean against the pilot's chair, just barely closer, but still making no promises.

"Why you?"

"Why not me?" Wufei flared with indignation and… apprehension?

"Well," Duo scratched at his scruff, "You're pretty damn sure I'm an idiot."

Wufei snorted, "We're all idiots. I just acknowledge it."

An edgy grin sliced across Duo's face, "Hell, Wufei. So, what, we just take off?"

"Une gifted me the ship for as long as I want it," Wufei smirked, placing a fond hand on the consol. "We can go where you please. See your children whenever you'd like. Take things at your pace."

"And you're just here to serve," Duo snapped in crisp sarcasm. His eyes shifted back to that piercing suspicion as he crowded the shorter man, "What do you want?"

Wufei growled in frustration, standing firm, "For you to calm down, find some peace. You deserve it. Maybe find a path."

"I had all that," the bitterness in Duo's voice was sludgy, clogging. "What the hell do you expect a broken man to do exactly?"

"Work for Preventers," Wufei expounded, knowing full well what the hell to expect of broken men. "We could partner."

"What about Sally?" Duo shot back, resting a hand to either side of Wufei's slim torso on the controls so they were exactly eyelevel, and still Wufei didn't move.

"She understands." The unconvinced glare Duo leveled at him spurred Wufei further, "She understands that I'm a married man."

Duo quirked an eyebrow, "Till death do you part, Wufei."

Something went cold and still in the other man. Wufei dropped his gaze for the first time. It left Duo feeling like he'd spent his one punch. When Wufei spoke, it was softly, eyes closed, "And _I_ am not dead, yet."

"Wufei…" Duo looked at the man, really looked at him. Proud features humbled with near exhaustion; bronze skin a mess of sweat, blood, and grit; and his bottomless eyes filled with patient optimism and respect despite the gaping wounds in his soul. Duo saw. And suddenly the nearness burned. Where there had been snarls and insults only soft lips and mingled breath remained. His lips tingled with a kiss unfinished, a kiss he hadn't realized he wanted until someone had withheld it. Duo saw and wanted and froze.

Wufei blinked, tilted his chin, and shared the lightest ghost of a tender kiss. Duo trembled, leaned in, gave the spirit a body. He pulled back and his whole world was soft want in obsidian eyes. Voice a husky whisper, "What is this?"

"Whatever you need," Wufei's voice was black silk, dark and strong, but just so damn smooth.

Cold, raw fear tore Duo's insides. He didn't move, couldn't, "For how long?"

"As long as you need," Wufei breathed, running a skilled hand down Duo's jaw, but leaving the void between their bodies. Inviting, but patient.

Sharp blue eyes dulled, "Why?"

Wufei huffed, tangling his fingers in bleach burned hair and sealing their lips again. Direct, but tender with deep respect and even deeper need, lips explained what words would not. Parting, Wufei held on, resting their foreheads together until Duo opened his eyes.

"Idiot," Wufei smirked and it was impossible to know who exactly he meant.

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_And freedom, oh freedom, well, that's just some people talking  
Your prison is walking through this world all alone_

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**A/N** – And there you have it! Sorry for the delay. An enormous thank you to everyone that's been reading and reviewing! I can only hope this was as interesting to read as it was to write. Reviews and thoughts on this overall would be lovely and appreciated.

**P.S.** – There is a sequel, of sorts, in the works for this. However, I want to get a couple other stories up before coming back this way. Keep an eye out for _Kith And Kin_.


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